Since that eerie white flower vanished in the center of the cesspool area, that land that once made people hold their noses and avoid it has strangely fallen silent.
The stench dissipated, replaced by a complex scent mingled with earth, fear, and bewilderment.
People watched from afar, whispering among themselves, but no one dared to set foot in the "purified" area.
That place seemed to have become an invisible boundary marker of Lin Yi's power, a place of redemption and a forbidden zone.
After this strange calm lasted for three days, Lin Yi made a decision that left everyone speechless.
He stood in the center of the open space, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of every survivor who pricked up their ears: "Starting from the first day of next month, on the first day of every month, a 'Criticize Me Platform' will be set up here. Anyone who has grievances, anger, or dissatisfaction with me may come up on the platform and scold me to my face. There will be no scrutiny of the words or time limit."
The crowd was silent for a moment, then erupted into chaos.
"He's insane! He's absolutely insane!"
"To criticize our platform? What a blatant irony! Does he want to see which of us dares to go and die?"
"Insult him? Who knows if there's someone with the power to kill lurking in the audience? One wrong word and you're reduced to ashes!"
Doubt, fear, and ridicule spread rapidly among the people like an invisible poisonous miasma.
In their view, this was nothing more than another form of mockery by the strong, a bloody game to test loyalty and courage.
However, Lin Yi ignored the uproar.
He offered no explanation, nor did he force anyone.
In the days that followed, people witnessed even more unbelievable scenes.
Lin Yi, the man who could conjure white flames out of thin air and decide life and death with a single word, actually worked on that land like a laborer.
He moved sturdy stones and built a simple stone platform about half a person's height, his movements meticulous, as if he were building some kind of sacred altar.
He paved the path leading to the stone platform with gravel and placed several smooth, large stones underneath the platform that could be used as seats.
Finally, he even found a wooden board, wrote a notice on it with charcoal, and posted it on the most conspicuous outer wall of the mill.
The words on that notice were more impactful than his declaration of establishing "Accountability Platform".
"Lin Yi, you can be a little more critical:"
1. Desertion in the face of battle, shirking responsibility to the mentor.
Second, they feign profundity, use obscure language, and keep people at arm's length.
Third, he abused his position as a mentor and did not actually provide any guidance.
Fourth, burning away one's power and feigning superiority is the greatest waste.
Every word he uttered was like a knife he himself had handed over, inviting everyone to stab him.
This left even the most sarcastic person speechless.
They couldn't understand it, they couldn't understand it at all.
What exactly does this man want to do?
On the first day of the first month, my station was established as scheduled.
As dawn broke, Lin Yi was the first to arrive. He sat quietly on a rock below the stage, closing his eyes to rest, as if he were truly waiting for the first "guest".
However, the entire morning was empty.
People just pointed and whispered from a distance, exchanging puzzled glances.
By the afternoon, still no one had gone on stage.
Until the sun set, the simple stone platform stood there all alone, like a joke no one understood.
Lin Yi showed no disappointment or impatience.
He stood up, dusted himself off, took out the empty bowl with inscriptions left by the young man, carefully wiped it clean, and then placed it neatly in the center of the platform.
Only after he had done all this did he turn and leave.
On the first day of the second month, the scene remained the same.
The station is still empty.
As usual, Lin Yi quietly wiped the bowl clean and placed it on the table at sunset.
His persistence, like a silent confrontation, made those who initially thought he was putting on an act begin to have doubts.
The turning point came on the first day of the third month.
That day, the sky was overcast, and the air was so stuffy that it was hard to breathe.
A widow with gray hair and a hunched back walked shakily out of the crowd.
Her name was A-Lian. Her husband was once surrounded by mutated creatures while collecting supplies. Lin Yi came to his rescue, but her husband eventually died from his injuries.
Amidst everyone's astonished gazes, A-Lian walked step by step onto the stone platform that had been observed for over two months.
She stood still, her cloudy eyes fixed on Lin Yi below the stage. Her lips trembled for a long time before she finally let out a shrill cry: "Lin Yi! I hate you!"
This sound seemed to tear apart the oppressive atmosphere that enveloped the camp.
"Why didn't you act sooner! Why! He was so close, so close to surviving! You have such great abilities, why didn't you bring him back safe and sound! You saved him, but you couldn't bring him back to life. You gave me hope, and then you crushed it with your own hands! What kind of hero are you! You're just an executioner!"
The widow's cries and curses were incoherent, filled with resentment and bitterness.
She pounded her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, pouring out all the pain, despair, and helplessness she felt after her husband's death into the most vicious words she hurled at Lin Yi.
The entire camp was silent, except for the echoes of her cries.
Lin Yi kept his head down the whole time, like a lifeless stone statue, silently enduring everything.
He didn't defend himself, didn't refute her, and didn't even look up at her.
The widow continued until her voice was hoarse from cursing, and she was sobbing uncontrollably until she collapsed onto the stone platform, only able to sob softly.
Lin Yicai slowly raised his head, his gaze as calm as a deep pool, and asked softly, "If you could do it all over again, what would you want me to do?"
The widow, A-Lian, was suddenly stunned.
She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.
Yes, what does she want him to do?
She didn't know... she just needed an outlet, she needed someone to listen to her finish saying what she had to say.
She stared blankly at Lin Yi, then finally shook her head helplessly: "I don't know... I don't know..."
On a mental level unseen by anyone, Chu Yao's voice softly echoed in Lin Yi's mind: "Warning. 'Resentment' type of emotional energy is undergoing transformation... the transformation direction is 'Unfinished Farewell'."
Ah Lian was helped off the stage. When she left, her steps seemed lighter than when she arrived.
And that gap that was opened could never be closed again.
The platform will no longer be vacant.
Someone went on stage and denounced his cold-heartedness when he first arrived.
Someone went on stage and mocked him, saying that everything he was doing now was just a show for fame and fortune.
Some people even used this as an excuse to go on stage and rant about their failed lives, cursing this damned end times, and projecting all their resentment toward life onto the silent man who was listening.
Lin Yi never offered any explanation.
He simply sat in the audience, using a charcoal stick and a roll of rough scrap paper to meticulously record every accusation against him, categorizing them meticulously.
Amidst the daily curses, deep underground, Ivan's intermittent whispers quietly emerged: "Warning... Node 87... has experienced unplanned loosening... it... has begun to breathe... the air of freedom."
Lin Yi named the scroll filled with "crimes" "The Misunderstood Record" and then publicly stored it in a corner of the mill, where anyone could read it.
On the title page, he added a sentence: "These are not my sins, but proof that you dared to speak them."
This statement plunged many people into a long silence.
Finally, one evening, the appearance of a figure brought the atmosphere at the blame station to its peak.
He was a sinister-looking young man who was once one of the most fervent followers of the Cleaner's Remnants.
He stepped onto the stage, his eyes bloodshot, and pointed at Lin Yi, letting out a beast-like roar: "Lin Yi! You hypocrite! You ruined our hero, you ruined our faith! Now, you've molded yourself into an even greater god! A god who can even design his curses flawlessly!"
His voice was filled with all-knowing venom: "Do you think I can't see it? This 'blame-me platform' is just another tool you use to win people over and consolidate your position! You let us curse you, and the more fiercely we curse you, the more tolerant and great you seem! You let us vent, and the more we rely on this 'safety' you've created! You've turned everyone's anger and weakness into the foundation stones to elevate your divine throne! You're more terrifying than the Cleaner... more terrifying than him!"
These words struck like a thunderbolt, resounding in everyone's hearts.
Many people turned pale, because the young man had voiced their secret suspicions.
All eyes were on Lin Yi, awaiting his thunderous rage or feeble explanation.
However, after a long silence, Lin Yi suddenly smiled.
It was a very light, faint laugh, without sarcasm or anger, as if one had simply heard an interesting point of view.
"you're right."
He calmly admitted it.
The young man was stunned, and everyone else was stunned.
Lin Yi looked at him and continued, "You're right about everything. So today, please continue to curse. Use the most vicious and sharpest language you can think of, keep cursing. Until you feel... that I am no longer some high and mighty god, no longer some hypocritical performer, but just... a neighbor you hate but who lives next door."
The ferocity and resentment on the young man's face froze instantly.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He was prepared for everything—for Lin Yi's rebuttal, rage, and even killing—but he was not prepared for this kind of complete and radical admission.
All his anger stemmed from the pleasure of "exposing hypocrisy".
But when the other party admitted, "I am a hypocrite," his world, which he had built on hatred, collapsed.
"Ah—" The young man let out a howl that was not human, then suddenly squatted down on the ground, covered his head with his hands, and burst into tears.
In those cries, there was the bewilderment of a collapsing faith, the emptiness of losing one's goals, and also a sense of relief and liberation.
Lin Yi silently stepped forward, placed a water bag beside him, and said softly, "Only those who have finished cursing have the right to shut up."
That night, when all was quiet, three clearly audible muffled thuds suddenly came from the earth, as if some giant thing was turning over deep within the earth.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The earthquake originated directly beneath the septic tank area!
Lin Yi's gaze sharpened, and his figure vanished from the spot in an instant.
He arrived at the land purified by the white flowers and keenly sensed that beneath the remaining, invisible roots, a faint yet incredibly malevolent energy was lingering on.
He dug through the damp soil with his bare hands, and soon, a jet-black crystal core, only the size of a thumb, appeared in his palm.
The surface of the crystal core was covered with spiderweb-like cracks, which were the last things that the remnants of the Cleaner's consciousness had parasitized back then!
It was not completely burned down, but remained hidden underground, sustaining its final existence on the lingering fear and resentment in people's hearts.
The existence of the platform, however, has invisibly cut off its last source of sustenance.
Lin Yi returned to the mill, retrieved the scroll of "The Misunderstood Records," tore off the title page that read "Escaping responsibility, feigning profundity," and used this scrap of paper that recorded the initial "crime" to tightly wrap the black crystal core that was on the verge of breaking.
Then he threw the paper packet into the stove.
Flames roared up, their orange-red light illuminating his calm face.
In unimaginable heat, the black crystal core emitted a final, faint, sharp cry before melting completely. Instead of turning to ash, it condensed into a pure, transparent droplet of water.
With a "drip," water seeped from the crack in the stove and landed precisely in a worn-out earthenware basin beside it, watering the weak wheat seedling that had been casually planted earlier.
The next morning, sunlight pierced through the clouds, bathing the entire campsite in a warm golden glow.
A miracle happened.
The wheat seedling in the ceramic pot had sprouted ears overnight.
The wheat ears are full, and each grain is crystal clear, like a solidified teardrop.
Lin Yi stood before the platform as usual, holding the ceramic bowl that had been empty for a long time.
He looked around at the crowd that was gradually gathering below the stage. Their eyes were no longer filled with fear, suspicion, or numbness, but with a complex emotion that was hard to describe.
He smiled slightly, just like every morning for the previous three months, and asked, "Who will scold me today?"
No one answered.
A long, but no longer oppressive, silence.
After a long while, a figure emerged from the crowd.
It was that young man who once carved the word "fake" on the bottom of the bowl.
He walked onto the stage without saying a word, his face devoid of its usual sarcasm and wariness.
He took a still-warm bowl from his pocket and gently placed it in the center of the stone platform.
In the bowl was perfectly cooked hot porridge, its aroma filling the air.
After doing all this, he awkwardly and deeply bowed to Lin Yi, then turned and left the stage, disappearing into the crowd.
Lin Yi walked onto the stage, picked up the bowl of hot porridge, and drank it all in one gulp under everyone's watchful eyes.
The warmth flowed from my stomach all the way to my limbs and bones.
When he put down the bowl, he saw a line of words newly engraved on the bottom of the bowl.
That line of text, crooked and twisted, seemed to have used up all the strength of the engraver.
"You don't have to be liked, just don't go too far."
Lin Yi held the warm, empty bowl, remaining silent for a long time.
He raised his head and looked at the distant mountain ridgeline.
There, a perfectly crystallized wheat flower, composed entirely of pure energy, slowly rises towards the morning sun.
Unlike before, this time, Maihua's heart was no longer a blurry silhouette, but a clear, utterly serene face—the very image of him sitting alone under the lamplight last night.
Deep within the earth, Ivan's last whisper faded into complete silence: "Warning lifted. Unit 87...has learned to stand on its own."
In the morning light, Chu Yao's voice rang out clearly, carrying a hint of inexplicable anticipation: "Logical deduction... Unit 88 is waiting for the first person who dares not speak the truth."
Lin Yi put down the bowl in his hand and muttered to himself, as if answering Chu Yao, or as if making a promise to himself.
"This time, I will listen first."
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