Chapter 989: Home

Qinglong stayed quietly in Tianlong’s room all night. After confirming there was no movement, he activated the warp and exited the room.

As he passed the “Celestial” room, he once again glanced at the nine people inside. They were gathered around the round table just as they had been the night before, their seated postures unchanged.

At the center of the table sat an exquisite clock.

The clock was staring face-to-face with a pale, blood-drained human head.

He had given these “Celestials” a chance all night. He had remained in the “train head” the entire time. If they still chose to trigger the “Celestial Moment,” he could only feign ignorance and regret later.

This was a chance—for himself, for “Tianlong,” and for all these “Celestials.”

Yet, it seemed they were all intimidated by the head of the Celestial Pig, none daring to make a move.

“Good morning, nine of you,” Qinglong said with a smile.

The nine stared at him in silence.

“Oh… my mistake,” Qinglong shifted his gaze to the head on the table. “Should I say ‘ten’?”

“Are we free to move now?” Tianniu asked. “The ‘ants’ haven’t moved all night. I have a very bad feeling—if we don’t pacify them soon, something might happen…”

“What’s the big deal?” Qinglong retorted. “Do those wretched things have an addiction to work? I generously gave them a break—are they going to rebel?”

Tianniu sighed. “I know you can’t empathize with them. But those ‘ants’ can’t hear, see, or speak—they can only think. Over an entire night, countless unsettling thoughts would have swarmed their minds. Perhaps you can’t understand, but for people who have nothing, only a strict routine of work gives them a sense of security.”

“How ridiculous…” Qinglong grinned. “Little Ox… have you ever realized that humans are just livestock?”

Tianniu frowned, then denied it after a few seconds. “I don’t think so.”

“Ever heard of ‘pigs’?” Qinglong pointed at the head on the table. “What’s the difference between humans and pigs?”

Tianniu didn’t know where he was going with this, but her expression grew colder.

“Pigs are fierce animals that could roam free and hunt in the wild. But if you throw them into a mud pit, build a few walls around them, and toss in some rotting scraps that would make us gag, they’ll accept that life. The few that resist are slaughtered on the spot. The rest, content with their lot, pass it down through generations. They wallow in filth, eating, shitting, waiting to die—and they enjoy it.”

“You’re not describing pigs or humans,” Tianniu said. “You’re describing everyone trapped here.”

“Isn’t that what every so-called ‘human’ is?” Qinglong laughed. “Humans thrive in oppression. No matter how much you crush their space, they’ll just retreat, rationalize it, and adapt. It’s an automatic process—so convenient for me.”

“What…?” Tianniu scowled. “Stop spouting nonsense. Humans aren’t like that.”

“Not like that? Then tell me, Little Ox—after a night of ‘rest,’ what do you think those ‘ants,’ already miserable beyond measure, are obsessing over in their heads?”

“This…”

“Fine, I’ll say it.” Qinglong leaned in close. “The only thought circling their minds is—’Am I useless now?’ ‘Will I be erased?’… HAHAHAHA! Best joke I’ve heard all day!”

The room was silent except for Qinglong.

“Laugh! Why aren’t you laughing?!”

As Qinglong’s laughter echoed, the other Celestials looked grim—except for Tianshu and Tianhu, who soon mirrored his manic grin.

“Qinglong…” Tianniu interrupted. “You shouldn’t mock them like this. The fact that they endure all this means they have something to live for.”

“‘Something to live for’?” Qinglong paused, then burst into even wilder laughter. “And what would that be?”

“Family,” Tianniu said. “It’s the word ‘home’ that makes people endure. They tolerate all this because they want to return ‘home’ someday.”

“HAHAHAHA! ‘HOME’! Hilarious!” Qinglong doubled over, clutching his stomach as he roared with laughter.

After a moment, he straightened up and took a step forward, his menacing aura forcing Tianniu back. “Little Ox, did you know? To distinguish tamed pigs from wild boars, humans gave them a new name… What was it?”

“It’s…” Tianniu faltered.

“Domestic pigs,” Qinglong cackled. “HAHA! Little Ox, that’s the meaning of ‘home’… Today’s second-best joke! HAHAHAHA! That word traps them generation after generation, condemning them to eternal suffering—and you call it ‘something to live for’?!”

Every word felt like a blade to Tianniu. She wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

A madman, wielding absolute power, spewing madness—just hearing a few sentences was enough to shatter one’s convictions.

Qinglong kept laughing, his voice alternating between masculine and feminine, as if a crowd were laughing at once.

Bizarrely lively, yet utterly chilling.

“Little Ox… still not laughing?” Qinglong’s grin faded into mock concern. “Then tell me—how do you write the character for ‘home’?”

Tianniu hesitated. “A roof radical… over a…”

Qinglong stayed quietly in Tianlong’s room for the entire night. After confirming there was no unusual activity, he activated a spatial jump and exited the room.

As he passed by the “Celestial” room, he once again glanced at the nine people inside. They were gathered around the circular table just as they had been the previous night, their seated postures unchanged.

At the center of the table sat an exquisite clock.

The clock was facing a pale, blood-drained human head.

Throughout the night, he had given these “Celestials” a chance. He had remained in the “locomotive” the entire time. If these “Celestials” still chose to initiate the “Celestial Moment,” he could only pretend to realize it too late and feign regret.

This was an opportunity—for himself, for “Tianlong,” and for all these “Celestials.”

But these “Celestials” seemed utterly intimidated by the human head of Tianzhu. None dared to make a move.

“Good morning, you nine,” Qinglong said with a laugh.

The nine individuals stared silently at Qinglong, none uttering a word.

“Oh… my apologies,” Qinglong shifted his gaze to the head at the center of the table. “Should it be ‘ten’?”

“Are we free to move now?” Tianniu said. “The ‘ants’ haven’t moved all night. I have a very bad feeling. If we don’t pacify them soon, something might happen…”

“What’s the big deal?” Qinglong retorted. “Do those wretched things actually enjoy working? I’m generously giving them a break. Do you really think they’d rebel?”

Tianniu sighed and said, “I know you can’t empathize with their thoughts. But those ‘ants’ can’t hear, see, or speak—they can only think. Over the course of a single night, countless anxious thoughts would have arisen in their minds. Perhaps you simply can’t understand that for those who have nothing, only scheduled, routine work can bring them a sense of security.”

“How laughable…?” Qinglong grinned. “Little Ox… haven’t you realized that humans are essentially livestock?”

Tianniu frowned upon hearing this and denied it after a few seconds. “I don’t think so.”

“Know what a ‘pig’ is?” Qinglong pointed at the head on the table. “What’s the difference between a human and a ‘pig’?”

Tianniu didn’t know where Qinglong was going with this, but her gaze grew increasingly cold.

“They are fierce animals capable of running freely in the forest and hunting, yet if you give them a mud pit, a few walls, and throw them some rotting leftovers that would make us retch, they’ll accept this way of life,” Qinglong said, grinning. “The few pigs that lead rebellions are slaughtered on the spot, leaving only those content with their lot to carry on. They willingly eat, drink, and defecate in the same mud pit, reeking of filth, waiting to die, and yet they find joy in it.”

“What you’re describing sounds less like ‘pigs’ or ‘humans’ and more like everyone trapped here,” Tianniu said.

“Isn’t every being called ‘human’ like this?” Qinglong laughed. “Humans are best suited to survive in cracks. No matter how much you oppress their living space, they’ll only find ways to retreat and rationalize it to themselves. It’s a fully automated process—makes my job very easy.”

“What…” Tianniu frowned. “Stop talking nonsense. Humans aren’t like that.”

“Not like that? Little Ox, tell me, after a night of ‘rest,’ what do you think those ‘ants,’ who are already in such a miserable state, are constantly thinking about?”

“This…”

“If you won’t say it, I will.” Qinglong leaned close to Tianniu’s face. “The only thought circling in their minds is, ‘Am I useless now? Will I be eliminated?’… Hahahaha! This is the best joke I’ve thought of today!”

Aside from Qinglong, the room was dead silent.

“Laugh! Why aren’t you laughing?!”

As Qinglong’s laughter echoed through the room, the expressions of the other “Celestials” were naturally grim. However, Tianshu and Tianhu soon broke into smiles identical to Qinglong’s.

“Qinglong…” Tianniu interrupted. “You shouldn’t mock them like this. The fact that they can endure all this shows they have something tying them down—they want to live.”

“Tying them down…?” Qinglong paused, then widened his eyes and laughed even more maniacally. “What do you mean by ‘tying them down’?”

“It’s ‘home,'” Tianniu said. “It’s because of the word ‘home’ that many are willing to endure in silence. The reason they can tolerate all this is that one day they hope to return ‘home.'”

“Hahahahaha! ‘Home’! How amusing!” Qinglong laughed hysterically, clutching his stomach as he roared with laughter.

A moment later, he lifted his head and took another step forward. The terrifying aura he emitted forced Tianniu to retreat a step. “Little Ox, do you know what people did to distinguish domesticated pigs from wild boars? They gave it a new name… Tell me, what is it?”

“It’s called…” Tianniu hesitated.

“It’s called ‘domestic pig,'” Qinglong laughed loudly. “Hahaha! Little Ox, this is the meaning of ‘home’… The second joke of the day! Hahahahaha! This word traps them generation after generation, forever unable to break free, and you call it ‘something tying them down’?!”

Tianniu felt as though every word from Qinglong was a knife cutting into her heart. She wanted to refute him but couldn’t find the angle to do so.

An utterly insane person, with the most overwhelming power, was forcing his insane ideas upon them. Hearing even a few sentences was enough to make one’s beliefs crumble endlessly.

Qinglong only continued to laugh recklessly. Every time he spoke, his voice was a blend of masculine and feminine tones, sounding like a crowd laughing together.

It was both lively and utterly eerie.

“Little Ox… is this joke not funny either…?” Qinglong stopped laughing and spoke with a hint of concern. “How about you tell me how to write the character for ‘home’?”

Tianniu paused before replying, “A roof radical above… above a…”

“Above a ‘shǐ,'” Qinglong said. “Need I teach you? ‘Shǐ’ in ancient times meant ‘pig.’ A ‘roof’ over a ‘pig’—this character… how amusing?”

In just a few sentences, Tianniu’s eyes seemed to have died.

She knew Qinglong was wrong, but where exactly was he wrong?

How she wished someone would stand up and refute Qinglong… but those before her had either accepted their fate or gone completely mad.

“Are you done…?” Tianniu asked in a low voice. “If you’re done, let me go. No matter how many reasons you have… ‘managing the ants’ is my responsibility. If something happens, I won’t be able to account for it.”

“What a dull and rigid woman…” Qinglong sighed. “Fine, go ahead. Go check on your beloved treasures.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire room shuddered violently, as if struck by a minor earthquake.

Everyone looked puzzled. The next moment, a terrifying red light seeped in through the door.

In just a few sentences, Tianniu’s eyes looked dead.

She knew Qinglong was wrong—but where?

She desperately wished someone would stand up and refute him… but the others had either surrendered or gone mad.

“Are you done…?” Tianniu said quietly. “If so, let me leave. No matter your reasons… managing the ‘ants’ is my duty. If something happens, I can’t bear the responsibility.”

“What a dull, rigid woman…” Qinglong sighed. “Fine, go. Tend to your precious little ants.”

The moment he finished speaking, the entire room trembled as if struck by a minor earthquake.

Confusion flickered across their faces—then, a terrifying red light seeped in from under the door.