The Diary of a Renter
71. Faded vitality
The crisis arrived silently, but it was not without warning.
It was Shirin who first noticed the unusual thing on the Starry Terrace. It was a morning that should have been full of hope, and as usual, starlight flowed from her fingertips, weaving the dawn for the building. But today, as the starlight flowed, she felt an indescribable stagnation, as if her fingertips were gliding over increasingly viscous honey, rather than light energy.
She tried to sketch a typical dolphin playing in the morning light, but the outline of the dolphin crumbled and dissolved silently, like sand painting soaked in water, leaving no trace of energy ripples, only a sense of emptiness after a concept had been erased from the sky. Shirin's luminous body trembled slightly, conveying confusion and a hint of unease.
Almost simultaneously, from the "Fairy Tale Path" on the east wing of the corridor came Anne's tearful cry of alarm. Her beloved, storytelling "Giggle Mushroom" had fallen silent. Not withered or decayed, but its very ability to "make a sound," along with the vibrant green of the surrounding lawn, seemed to have been bleached, fading into a lifeless, chilling grayish-white.
This area had not only lost its color, but even its texture had become cold and smooth, like touching polished granite rather than vibrant soil and plants. Annie's small hands futilely patted the grayish-white expanse, producing only a dull, absolute silence.
“Brother Jiang Yu! The mushrooms… the mushrooms are dead! They’ve lost their color! This place… this place has become so strange!” Annie’s voice was filled with unprecedented panic, not the fear of destruction, but the bewilderment of having “existence” denied by some fundamental force.
Jiang Yu's heart sank, and he rushed to the scene. The Source Key didn't emit a sharp alarm, but instead conveyed a sense of weakness, a feeling of being slowly drained and diluted, like a frog being boiled in lukewarm water. He extended his senses, and the scene before him sent chills down his spine—centered on the mute mushroom, an area of absolute silence was spreading at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, yet unwaveringly.
Colors, sounds, energy fluctuations, and even the "sense of the passage of time" within the area are being stripped away, leaving only a suffocating, nihilistic "existence" itself, as if all things have returned to their primordial state before birth. This is not an attack, but an erasure, a fundamental denial of all "vitality" and "difference".
72. Silent Blood Codex
Anxiety spread through the building like a plague. More anomalies appeared: Uncle Bloodaxe found that the smoky aroma from his barbecue had become weak and tasteless; Zero's spatial jumps experienced slight, unnatural "lag"; even the text in some books in the library that contained cheerful stories began to become blurred.
The caretaker's face was more solemn than ever before. He led Jiang Yu and the fox shakily into the deepest part of the library, a forbidden zone sealed by fragments of spacetime. He took out a scroll of black metal foil that was neither gold nor jade, and felt cold to the touch. The divine runes on it were becoming blurred and fading at a visible speed.
"【Silent Blood Codex】..." Grandpa's voice was dry and hoarse, as if each word had taken a great deal of effort from him. "In ancient records, the 'cleaners' who maintain the ultimate balance of the multiverse... are not evil, but... a self-cleaning mechanism at the level of rules. When the 'chaos' and 'vitality' in a certain area become excessive and may threaten the stability of the overall structure, it will awaken from the conceptual void and execute... 'formatting'."
"Formatting?!" The fox's voice was shrill, and the data stream on the holographic panel flickered wildly, attempting to analyze this threat that defied conventional understanding. "They're wiping us out like a virus?! How? Energy shock? Rule overriding?"
“It’s not erasure,” Jiang Yu said, closing her eyes and focusing all her attention on the oppressive feeling emanating from the Source Key, like an ancient iceberg slowly covering the sky. Her voice carried a hint of weary understanding. “It’s ‘returning to silence.’ It’s denying the ‘meaning’ and ‘form’ of our existence. Our laughter, our creations, our differences… in its eyes, they are all ‘noise’ that needs to be smoothed out.”
The only way to resist, according to historical records, is not to clash with greater power, as that would only accelerate assimilation into "Silence." Instead, it is to hold a [Blood Codex Emblem] ritual. This requires using three extreme conceptual actions—representing "vitality," "chaos," and "protection"—to inscribe indelible imprints of law into the void, proving to the Blood Codex that the clamor here is not chaotic disorder, but a higher, dynamic order.
These three emblems need to be inscribed with the most quintessential "violence," a sacrifice made in the face of death. Choosing who will bear this burden becomes the cruelest question before us.
73. Boundless Beauty
One of the chosen ceremony locations was the "Morning Light Spring," located on the edge of the building's east wing. This was where Shirin first wove the morning light; the spring no longer spouts water, but rather the purest "light of life," nourishing the surrounding dreamlike "sea of starlight flowers."
Yet now, the silent erosion had reached the edge of the spring. The water's luster had become dull and viscous, like mercury about to solidify; the once vibrant starflowers around it now had curled petals and faded to a deathly white, like frost-covered specimens, eerily silent. A deathly stillness, like the end of all things, permeated the air, even time itself seemed to thicken. This was the very front line where life and silence clashed, where both symbolic meaning and reality were of paramount importance.
Jiang Yu, the manager, the doctor, and others escorted the Azure Emperor to the spring. The once warm and vibrant halo at the center of the spring now flickered like a candle in the wind.
“This is it,” the old man who managed the area said in a hoarse voice, pointing to the boundary between the spring and the Silent Erosion Zone. There seemed to be an invisible boundary there, with a faint light inside and utter gray and death outside. “The Emblem of Life must be inscribed here, to fight against the ultimate death with the most primal source of life.”
The Azure Emperor's ancient face remained expressionless, devoid of joy or sorrow, as he slowly walked towards the boundary line. With each step he took, a few slender yet tenacious emerald green shoots forcibly sprouted from the ground beneath his feet, but the moment these shoots touched the silent area, they silently turned to ashes. This scene of lotus blossoms blooming with each step, only to wither away in an instant, was filled with a tragic and solemn sense of ritual.
Just as the Azure Emperor was about to cross the boundary, the silent area suddenly rippled, and an invisible suction force came, attempting to pull him completely into that void. The rock roared, and the giant shield slammed into the ground, trying to block it, but the suction force was aimed at the source of life, and the physical defense effect was minimal.
"No need to stop him." The Azure Emperor's voice was unusually calm. He allowed the suction force to act on him, his figure becoming somewhat blurred, but he used this power to accelerate his merging into the silence.
The next moment, a breathtaking scene unfolded. The Azure Emperor's figure vanished completely in the silence, transforming into countless ancient runes burning with azure-gold life force. These runes were not chaotic; rather, they resembled a suicidal army, arranged in an arcane formation, crashing relentlessly into the silent core. Each rune's impact was silent, yet it ignited a small, fleeting, but incredibly brilliant, green spark on the deathly "canvas." These sparks coalesced, stubbornly resisting the spread of gray.
The process lasted for an unknown amount of time. When the last rune burned out, a small pool of clear spring water miraculously remained in the center of the silent area scorched by the starlight. In the spring water, a translucent emerald sapling with light flowing through its veins slowly grew out—the Emblem of Life was complete.
It was faint, yet like the first ray of dawn piercing the darkness, it clung desperately to the last glimmer of hope. The Azure Emperor's aura had almost vanished, and he had fallen into a deep slumber.
The other ceremony location was chosen above the endless corridor, in the "Void Springboard" area that connects various instances and is maintained by zero daily. This place is the most active and unstable in terms of spatial structure, with countless spatial ripples flickering like breaths.
At this moment, the power of silence is attempting to smooth out all these "wrinkles," completely solidifying the dynamic space into an unchanging "backdrop." The light in the springboard area is fading, and the structure is becoming rigid, like lava cooling.
"Damn it, is this thing trying to turn my house into a solid iron plate?!" Zero was furious as he looked at his meticulously maintained springboard area, now lifeless. He and the Devourer of All Things (Forging Heaven Monarch) hovered in the center of the gradually solidifying void.
"Let's begin, you little thief." The Devourer's deep voice carried a hint of excitement. "Let this lifeless thing taste the flavor of chaos!"
Zero took a deep breath and plunged his hands into the surrounding spatial structure. He was no longer stealing space, but frantically "tearing" and "folding" it.
His figure instantly multiplied into hundreds of afterimages, each tearing and distorting the void in a way that defied the laws of physics. Space was ripped open with dark gashes, which he then forcibly stitched back together, forming constantly rotating and nested Möbius strips and Klein bottle structures, emitting a chilling, ear-piercing shriek like glass being continuously crushed. A surreal labyrinth, logically impossible and constantly collapsing and reforming itself, rapidly took shape.
At the same time, the Devourer of All Things let out a maniacal laugh and opened its gigantic maw. But this time, it didn't devour; it vomited. A torrent, mixed with dark red destructive energy, fragments of purple distorted laws, and countless memories of worlds' wails, erupted violently like cosmic-scale vomit! Wherever this torrent passed, even the silent forces were temporarily corrupted and distorted.
Zero's spatial labyrinth perfectly enveloped this chaotic torrent, constraining and stirring it, forming a "chaotic nebula" where energy annihilation, law conflict, and cause-effect reversal were constantly occurring within it.
The power of silence attempted to "format" this nebula, but its inherent paradoxical nature of constant self-negation rendered the rules of silence like an unexplainable virus, trapping it in a logical dead loop and causing it to stagnate. At the edge of the nebula, at the boundary between silence and chaos, space violently distorted and flickered, displaying a morbid yet magnificent color, as if two cosmic laws were tearing each other apart. The Chaos Emblem gradually stabilized amidst this extreme, destructive aesthetic confrontation.
The final battleground is at the entrance plaza of the endless corridor, directly in front of the Tree of Hope. This is the "face" of the building, and also a symbol of home in the hearts of all residents.
At this moment, the true form of the Silent Blood Codex—a pure, profound, absolute darkness that devours all light and sound—has, like a rising tide, overflowed the edge of the plaza and is slowly pushing towards the Tree of Hope! The light of the Tree of Hope flickers violently in the darkness, its leaves rustling as if in mourning. Anne and the children are tightly protected behind the doctor, and everyone's hearts are in their throats.
"We can't let it advance any further!" Rock roared, his massive body blocking the Tree of Hope like a mountain. The giant shield in his hand, [Unbreakable Barrier], sensed its master's determination and emitted an unprecedentedly heavy light.
"Brother Panshi, I'm here to help you!" Jiang Yu flashed behind Panshi and placed her hand on his solid back. The light of the Source Key no longer spread, but condensed into an extremely refined golden thread, connecting Jiang Yu's will with Panshi's shield like a bridge.
"Come on!" Rock roared, pouring all his strength and even his will into the shield, and slammed the giant shield into the surging front of darkness!
"Buzz—!"
A deep, muffled thud, seemingly emanating from the depths of the earth's core, reverberated throughout the entire building. The instant the shield touched the darkness, the dazzling light vanished abruptly! The shield surface seemed to have been plunged into an abyss of absolute zero, instantly covered with a layer of ever-spreading, spiderweb-like white ice cracks. Each crack was accompanied by a subtle sound, like the tearing of rock-solid muscle fibers, and a muffled groan he couldn't suppress. The veins in his arms bulged, trembling violently, his tiger's mouth split open, and blood dripped from the edges of the shield, only to evaporate the moment it touched the darkness.
Jiang Yu's situation was equally dire. Through the link of the Source Key, the torrent of rules that "ends all things" struck his soul like icy poison. His face instantly turned deathly pale, his body trembling uncontrollably, as if every inch of his flesh and blood, every thought, was being frozen and erased. But he gritted his teeth, not only refusing to back down, but actively guiding this power through himself, using his own existence to "taste," to "understand," and to "define" this ultimate silence.
Just as the rock-solid shield was cracking and about to shatter completely, and Jiang Yu was almost at her limit—
"Clang!"
A clear, resonant roar, like a dragon's cry, erupted from the center of the shield! The countless cracks did not shatter the shield; instead, they intertwined and converged, imprinting a complex, ancient emblem with an immortal, dark golden light on the center of the shield! The moment the emblem took shape, a firm will to "break but not perish, live forever in annihilation" spread out with a roar, resonating strongly with the light of the Tree of Hope.
The Guardian Crest is complete.
The dark tide was firmly held back by this shield, which was covered with immortal cracks, and could not advance an inch further.
74. The Ebb of Silence
When the Guardian Emblem shone with an immortal dark gold light on the surface of the rock shield, time seemed to stand still in the entire entrance plaza of the Endless Corridor.
The massive shield, covered with exquisite yet deadly cracks like those on porcelain, stubbornly resisted the advance of pure darkness. Darkness was no longer an invincible devourer; it crashed into a wall of sighs constructed of will, sacrifice, and the pain of transformation.
Immediately afterward, a distant scene was reflected through the ripples of space—beside the Dawn Spring, the emerald sapling ignited by the Azure Emperor's life fire stubbornly unfurled its leaves, radiating a soft blue light, against a silent gray-white background. Each vein of the leaf flowed with the rhythm of life, echoing the guardian emblem. Above, the chaotic nebula created by the Zero-Sum Devourer continued its endless cycle of annihilation and rebirth, emitting an unstable yet creatively magnificent light, firmly anchoring the "uncertainty" of that region.
Vitality. Chaos. Protection.
The three emblems do not exist in isolation. Their light pierces through the barriers of space, like three pillars supporting the sky, forming a stable triangular domain. Within this domain, the magnificence of sacrifice, the creation of subversion, and the eternity of endurance—three sublimated forms of "violence"—jointly define a new law: a dynamic, wound-embracing order that seeks resonance in conflict.
The darkness of the Silent Blood Codex, this collection of rules representing "ultimate silence," hesitated for the first time before this barrier constructed of "meaning" and "resistance." Its once placid surface began to ripple with subtle, water-like waves. It was not defeated, but rather, like a meticulous judge, after examining irrefutable evidence, began to reassess.
Finally, under everyone's gaze, the absolute darkness receded like the tide, slowly yet resolutely retreating. It did not disappear, but retreated beyond the boundary of the endless corridor, as if it had never existed. But the oppressive feeling it left behind and the ultimate questioning of the "meaning of existence" were deeply imprinted in the hearts of every survivor.
The deathly silence in the square was broken. The light of the Tree of Hope warmed again, and the leaves rustled softly, as if in celebration. But no one spoke; the relief of surviving the ordeal was replaced by a deeper emotion, a mixture of sorrow, awe, and enlightenment.
The crisis has passed, but the building is no longer the same.
The Azure Emperor fell into a deep slumber. His true form—the phantom of that ancient, desolate forest—shrank considerably, surrounding the Dawn Spring like a guardian in eternal slumber. Zero and the Devourer of All Things were severely depleted; Zero's spatial techniques became unreliable, while the Devourer had temporarily lost its ability to devour, requiring a long period of rest. Most striking was the Rock; on his giant shield, the Unbreakable Barrier, the dark golden guardian emblem was clearly visible, like an eternal scar. Every time he raised the shield, the emblem would glow faintly, a reminder of that tragic ritual. Jiang Yu's aura also forever carried a lingering, icy quality stemming from ultimate silence, adding a layer of weathered experience to his gentle demeanor.
However, these "scars" did not lead to decay or desolation; instead, they made the building appear more substantial, real, and powerful.
The emerald sapling, formed from the life-giving emblem, took root in the void, growing slowly and steadily. Though its light was weak, it tirelessly purified the remaining aura of silence day and night. The chaotic nebula did not dissipate; instead, it became a strange, distorted natural barrier around the building. Any force with tendencies toward "absolute order" or "deathly stillness" would fall into logical chaos upon approaching. The shield of the rock, due to the emblem it bore, not only did not decrease in defensive power but actually increased. The cracks seemed to become channels for the flow of power, better dispersing and transforming impacts.
The way residents viewed each other also changed. They cherished the noise of the moment more, knowing how precious it was; they no longer deliberately avoided negative emotions, understanding that shadows are also part of a complete life.
The blood-stained emblem became the new cornerstone of the edifice. A new order, recognizing the value of struggle, sacrifice, and scars, was thus established. This home no longer feared scars, for the scars themselves had become its indelible emblem of glory, proof of its battles and its survival.
75. Chronicle of Scars
On [Date], the last rays of light had not yet faded, and I still felt lingering fear.
The silent surge of blood finally receded.
Before the Azure Emperor fell into slumber, the emerald sapling he ignited with the flame of his life sprouted its first new leaf in the void tonight. The leaf was very thin, almost transparent, and the light flowing through its veins was like a candle flickering in the wind, yet it never went out.
I examined Brother Pan Shi's shield closely during the day. The cracks, fine as ice patterns, intersected with a dark golden light. They weren't cold to the touch; instead, they had a lingering, scorching warmth. He said the shield was heavier now, but also more comfortable to hold. It was as if the cracks weren't damage, but rather channels through which power flowed.
Uncle Zero's spatial teleportation was still unreliable; once, he tried to teleport to the kitchen but got stuck halfway in the wall, and Master Gulu had to exert a lot of effort to "pull" him out. He didn't complain; instead, he laughed the loudest. I just noticed that he would occasionally stare blankly at the still-unsettled chaotic nebula, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Today, Anne held Teddy and stood for a long time in front of the "mute" mushroom on the fairytale path. She didn't cry, but whispered to the mushroom, "It's okay, you're quiet now, but you're still my mushroom." Then, she made a little hat for the grayish-white mushroom out of colorful clay.
Occasionally, a cool, stinging sensation, like being pricked by an extremely fine needle, would still emanate from the spot on my chest where the Source Key was located. It wasn't hostility, but rather a perpetual reminder—the silence hadn't vanished; it had merely retreated beyond the boundary of light, gazing at us from afar.
I used to think that protecting meant keeping this place free of crying and scars, and forever bathed in sunshine.
Now I understand that true protection is perhaps about making cries heard, making wounds remembered, and making the sunshine all the more precious after a long night.
The sacrifice of the Green Emperor was not a failure, but rather it gave life a coordinate in the midst of death and silence.
The chaos of the Zero-Sum Devourer is not destruction, but rather the exposure of flaws in the absolute order.
Brother Rock's shield did not break; at its limit, it bore the indestructible vow.
Our home is no longer a spotless greenhouse. It has cracks, shadows, and indelible painful memories.
But precisely because of this, it is like a suit of armor that has been through war, covered in scratches but still sharp, possessing weight, a story, and a thickness that can truly resist nothingness.
Goodnight, Azure Emperor, who burns himself out for us on the edge of silence.
Goodnight, Brother Rock, who used his body to block the flood and end it.
Goodnight to all of us who, despite our scars, still choose to be noisy and creative.
This starlight is especially worth protecting tonight.
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