Chapter 72: Children's Rhyme Code: Ye Shi'er's True Identity

When Shen Yan pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen was still vibrating.

It wasn’t an incoming call or a message notification—the System itself was acting up. A Terminal Interface with black background and green text automatically popped up, a line of Notice floating in the center:

【Audio stream activating… Source: Unknown encrypted channel】

【Playback content: Children’s Rhyme “The Crescent Moon Shines Over the Nine Provinces”】

【Warning: This audio resonates with the Host’s Source Code Spiritual Root at 99.8%, suspected to be a binding protocol wake-up signal】

“Again?” He frowned, his finger about to dismiss it when the children’s rhyme began to play.

“The crescent moon shines over the nine provinces, whose daughter does not ascend the tower…”

The voice sounded as if it were playing from an old-fashioned Jade Slip, scratchy and filled with static noise. Yet with every line sung, his Temple throbbed sharply, as if someone were pricking his brain with a fine needle. An Image flashed before his eyes—a rainy night, muddy ground, a stone cave behind the orphanage, a black-cloth-wrapped Infant being stuffed inside, wearing a small bronze mask on its face.

He shook his head violently, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

“How does this thing even have a mental invasion function?”

Pei Yue happened to walk over carrying her Medicine Pouch. Seeing his pale face, her brows immediately furrowed into a knot: “What Program are you messing with again? You just recovered from the last Energy Transfer, and now you’re about to blow up the furnace?”

“I didn’t test anything; it popped up on its own.” Shen Yan handed her the phone. “Look, even without my authorization, the System automatically loaded the audio and even gave a Notice saying…”

He paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

—It also said that this Children’s Rhyme and the Source Code Spiritual Root within his body shared the same root Node.

Pei Yue stared at the Screen for a few seconds, then suddenly reached out and pressed her fingers against his wrist: “Your pulse is chaotic; your qi and blood are rushing backward through your meridians. Did you see something just now?”

“Hallucinations, probably.” He forced a slight smile. “Just childhood memories. I always felt like someone was humming this song in front of me.”

Pei Yue didn’t reply. She turned and took out a green jade talisman from her Medicine Pouch, gently pressing it against the back of his neck. A cool sensation seeped in, clearing his mind somewhat.

“I remember my mother’s notes mentioned a Children’s Rhyme,” she said softly. “It said that on the ‘Day of Bearing Tribulation,’ a masked infant was delivered to Medicine Valley and began singing this very song that same night.”

Shen Yan’s breath hitched: “When was this?”

“Twenty years ago, the seventh day of the seventh lunar month.”

The two exchanged a glance, neither speaking further.

The time, the place, the ritual name—everything matched.

Shen Yan lowered his head and reopened the System, pulling up the audio spectrogram. Beneath that segment of the Children’s Rhyme, there were indeed layers upon layers of encrypted Protocols, their structure so complex it seemed unlike any Cultivation method—more like the authentication process of some high-level Heavenly Dao Interface.

Gritting his teeth, he directly activated his newly awakened “Reverse Decompilation Divine Skill,” using his own Source Code as the Key to forcibly crack it.

Code cascaded down like a waterfall, his Temples aching as if about to split. Data Shadows began to flicker at the edges of his vision, and intermittent mechanical sounds echoed in his ears:

【Permission verification in progress…】

【Binding relationship confirmed: Mirror Image carrier】

【Protocol ID: Y Twelve-Zero Zero One｜Source Code Sequence: Geng Seventy-Two—Shen Yan｜Status: Awaiting synchronization】

“Geng Seventy-Two… is my initial identification code.”

His voice turned dry.

The System doesn’t lie.

This meant that the masked man who wielded a Scythe and killed Xie Wujiu as easily as deleting Cache was not an enemy.

It was another him.

Or more accurately—a “backup” that shared the same Source Code Core.

Pei Yue watched his trembling fingertips and suddenly grasped his hand. “Stop investigating. It’s too dangerous.”

“I must investigate,” he shook his head. “If he was split from me, then why did the ‘Mother of Tribulation’ choose both of us? Was the experiment a failure? Or… did someone deliberately separate us?”

Pei Yue fell silent for a moment before finally speaking. “I know where we might find answers.”

She led him through the alley behind the Medicine Hut to a long-sealed old house. The wooden hinges creaked as she pushed the door open, and the scent of aged ink mixed with medicinal herbs wafted out.

This was her mother’s former residence.

She rummaged through a corner and pulled out a yellowed booklet, its cover inscribed with three characters: “Records of Anomalous Births.” Opening to the first page, a line of vermilion annotations leaped out:

“On the seventh day of the seventh month in the Renwu year, the Celestial Outcast Splitting Experiment failed, with two embryos surviving. One was sealed in the mortal realm; the other was implanted into the Shadow Erosion maternal body and named ‘Ye Shi’er.’ Both share the same Source Code Core and are Mirror Images of each other.”

Below was a hand-drawn illustration.

Two infant faces were drawn side by side. The one on the left had delicate features and wore a Star-Shattering Token Imitation around its neck—it was Shen Yan as a child. The one on the right was wrapped in black cloth, wearing a Bronze Mask, with a blue serpentine pattern winding down its right cheek.

It was unmistakably Ye Shi’er.

Shen Yan stared at the face, his throat tightening.

Not an enemy, not a Clone, not a Puppet.

A brother.

A Twin brother, bound by blood.

Yet one became a Code Farmer, the other the Shadow Erosion Leader; one was thrown into an orphanage to endure the rain, the other stuffed into a sinister formation as a Container.

What kind of fair Algorithm was this damned System of fate writing?

Lost in thought, his phone suddenly buzzed.

The Terminal Interface popped up again, this time with a real-time Notice:

【Detected High-Level Data interaction Request】

【Source: Deep Formation Eye of the Medicine Valley Library】

【Protocol Type: Mirror Image Synchronization】

【Accept Connection?】

Before he could select an option, the Children’s Rhyme began again.

But this time was different.

No longer a recording.

Someone was singing.

Real-time transmission.

“Bro—ther—”

The drawn-out tail of the word sounded like a sigh echoing across Spacetime.

Shen Yan abruptly stood up, knocking his chair to the floor.

“He’s in the library!”

Pei Yue grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! Establishing a connection rashly could synchronize and overwrite your consciousness! Do you know what ‘Mirror Image Synchronization’ means? You share the same Source Code. Once connected, his Memories, emotions, Obsession—everything will flood into you!”

“I know,” he turned to look at her, his gaze unusually calm. “But if I don’t connect, he’ll forever remain a killing machine. He called me brother… it means he still remembers.”

He raised his hand and tapped the confirmation Command, simultaneously typing a string of Firewall Code. “I’ve already set up an isolation layer. If malicious reading is detected, it will cut off immediately.”

The Screen instantly expanded into a Star Map-like Data Stream, with a line of text slowly appearing at the center:

“Brother, you finally heard me.”

Before the words faded, a faint blue glow suddenly lit up in the direction of the library, as if something was awakening.

Shen Yan took off running.

Pei Yue chased after him, shouting, “At least take a heart-protecting talisman!”

“No need!” He glanced back with a smile as he ran. “I’m a Programmer with a pink heart Theme Skin now. What’s there to fear?”

Pei Yue stomped her foot in frustration but still followed him.

At the end of the corridor, the doors to the library were tightly shut, with a faint blue light seeping through the cracks.

Shen Yan stood before the door, the blue glow from his phone still shimmering as the Children’s Rhyme continued to whisper in his ear.

He reached out and pushed the door.

It was unlocked.

As soon as he opened it a crack, a powerful suction force surged from inside, as if the entire space were tugging at his soul.

He staggered, nearly falling in.

The last line of the Notice on his phone flashed:

【Synchronization Progress: One Percent】

【Warning: The other party is uploading Memory Fragments】

He looked up.

The library was empty.

Only on the ancient Jade Slip shelf at the very back, a pitch-black Jade Slip trembled faintly, two words surfacing on its surface:

“Big Brother.”

(End of Chapter)