Chapter 263: The Awake's Scar

On the third day of the trial, when the plaintiff's summoned witness entered the courtroom, the entire hall fell silent for three seconds.

The representative of the Refractor civilization—a former branch of the Crystal Resonators—also took the Carefree Seed, but after viewing simulated data of the "Bone‑Eating Vine testimony," three hundred individuals collectively made a decision: to discontinue its use.

Now seated on the witness stand is the Disablers' representative Shattered Light-7. Its body no longer bears an amber, constant halo, but instead displays a … fractured beauty: the crystalline surface is riddled with fine cracks, and deep within those fissures a flickering dim light shines, as if breathing.

"Please state the reasons for your discontinuation," Su Yu asked as the plaintiff's attorney, her voice steady.

Shattered Light-7's crystalline body emitted a sound, no longer the light chime of a wind bell, but a hoarse, friction‑laden tone:

"Because we discovered that in the second year of taking it, we all shared a dream together."

As Shattered Light-7 began its testimony, Lao Zhao felt the Robe of True Choice on his shoulders suddenly warm.

The transparent, net‑like structure woven from braided grafted saplings now glimmered faintly, like dawn through dew. Through the robe, Lao Zhao saw—not with his eyes, but as an intuitive image—

Shattered Light-7's inner Scale of Choice. In the left pan: "Eternal ease but no further growth." In the right pan: "Possible pain but possible rebirth." The scale swayed violently, supported by a pillar as thin as a thread— the collective resentment of the three hundred individuals.

Lao Zhao calmly lifted his thermos cup and realized the tea was freshly brewed by Han Qing—infused with a hint of mint, refreshing yet not overpowering. The water was exactly sixty degrees.

He took a sip; the cool mint dissolved in his throat. Simultaneously, the image from the robe sharpened: on the last night before the discontinuation decision, Shattered Light-7 stared alone at its crystalline surface, where the reflected starry sky… was frozen. The Carefree Seed had filtered out every twinkle, leaving only eternal, smooth points of light.

"We dreamed of flickering," Shattered Light-7's voice echoed in the courtroom, "we dreamed of real stars—those that blink, move, and are occasionally hidden by clouds. Upon waking, we looked at each other and, for the first time, realized…"

He paused, and the cracks on the crystalline surface suddenly lit up in unison:

"We were robbed of the right to 'wait for the clouds to disperse.'"

Su Yu prompted, "Please describe the discontinuation process."

"The first seven days are the stripping phase," Shattered Light-7's hoarse voice carried an odd calm, "the Carefree frequency is forcibly expelled from the crystal lattice. Every crystal grain screams—not a scream of pain, but a panic scream of 'lost eternal peace.'"

A holographic scene unfolded: three hundred Refractor individuals gathered in a valley on their home world, their bodies fading from warm amber to icy transparency. The first crack appeared on their crystalline surfaces.

"On the eighth day, we felt temperature again," Shattered Light-7 said, "not the Carefree realm's constant twenty‑two degrees, but the chill of dawn, the heat of noon, the slight cool of dusk. One of us, having not felt 'heat' for so long, had a small portion of its crystal melt when exposed to sunlight."

The scene showed that individual's arm crystal softening and dripping like a candle. Where it dripped, new, finer crystal clusters sprouted—irregular in shape, yet each glimmered uniquely in the sun.

"That was our 'first bite of pain,'" Shattered Light-7 said, "painful, but after the pain we discovered we… remember. We remember the scorching of sunlight, the itch when new crystal grows, and the feeling after the pain fades—a sigh of relief."

He looked toward the jury seats:

"The most terrifying aspect of the Carefree Seed isn't that it gives you happiness. It's that it makes you forget—the opposite of happiness isn't pain, it's the 'after.' After pain comes no pain, after cold comes warmth, after loss… something may grow again."

At that moment, the robe on Lao Zhao's shoulders suddenly transmitted a fragmented image—not from Shattered Light-7, but from the jury area!

He remained composed, turned his head slightly, and through the robe's transparent mesh caught an astonishing sight:

Seven once‑shaken civilization representatives, each with a faint phantom scale hovering above their heads. Three of those scales were slowly tilting—from "tending toward ease" toward "perhaps reconsidering."

More crucially, Lao Zhao noticed a detail concealed in Shattered Light-7's testimony: of the three hundred who discontinued, twenty‑seven individuals failed to survive the stripping phase. Their crystals collapsed entirely after losing the Carefree frequency, turning into ordinary silicon dust.

This is the "price of awakening," which Shattered Light-7 omitted, perhaps fearing it would weaken its testimony.

Lao Zhao set down his thermos cup and gave a soft cough.

Shattered Light-7 looked at him.

Lao Zhao asked, "During the discontinuation, were any companions unable to succeed?"

The courtroom fell silent.

All the cracks on Shattered Light-7's crystalline surface dimmed for an instant. Then it answered, "Yes. Twenty‑seven. They… were too exhausted. So exhausted that they'd rather dissolve in eternal peace than feel another temperature shift again."

"Do you regret?" Pure-3 immediately pressed, the Light Sphere turning an aggressive deep red, "For the sake of the so‑called 'reality,' you lost your companions?"

Shattered Light-7 remained silent for a full ten seconds. In that span, deep within its crystal fissures, the flickering lights began to pulse rhythmically—Lao Zhao, seeing through the robe, recognized it as the newly invented 'Mourning Frequency' after discontinuation: a light rhythm recording the names of the departed.

"No regrets," Shattered Light-7 finally said, its voice even hoarser, "because those twenty‑seven, in their final moments before dispersal, left us a frequency testament."

He played an extremely faint recording, requiring the courtroom volume to be turned up to maximum to hear:

"Tell those who come after… the starry sky I last saw… was flickering."

In the Earth base, when Han Qing heard Shattered Light-7 mention the 'twenty‑seven departed,' the ninth fruit on his chest suddenly burned intensely.

He knew this was a summons of his ability—the Scale Fruit seeking to weigh the cost of this choice.

"Aili, give me the stabilizer," he whispered, "I need to use 'Cost Perception.'"

"We've already used it once today!" Aili gripped the medical kit, "the fruit's fissure will expand!"

"But this is the weight of crucial evidence," Han Qing, eyes closed, replied, "I must know what this chain of costs looks like."

His consciousness sank into the fruit. Through that fissure, Han Qing saw an astonishing scene:

Behind Shattered Light-7's 'discontinuation decision' lay a complex cost chain:

· Direct cost: twenty‑seven individuals dispersed (already occurred)

· Secondary cost: the remaining individuals' crystal strength permanently reduced by 30%, lifespan projected to shrink by 40%

· Hidden cost: the entire Refractor civilization is labeled a 'traitor' by other users, subjected to social isolation

· Future cost: should they spread the discontinuation experience, it may trigger a conservative 'memory purge' retaliation

Yet at the end of the cost chain, Han Qing saw something:

A brand‑new, never‑before‑seen seed phantom. Its label read: "Pain Tolerance Seed — a resistance gene that naturally evolved after discontinuing the Carefree Seed."

This seed cannot grant ease, but can teach the body "how to coexist with pain without collapsing."

Han Qing opened his eyes, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth—the fissure had widened by 0.3 millimetres.

"How's it?" Su Yu asked over the communication channel.

"The cost is heavy," Han Qing wiped the blood, "but at the end of the cost… new possibilities have sprouted."

Shattered Light-7's testimony concluded, its effect evident. In the jury area, five civilization representatives' body colors had turned a deep blue of "deep contemplation."

But Pure-3's Light Sphere suddenly floated to the courtroom centre, emitting a full‑band broadcast:

"Honorable judges, jury, we acknowledge the courage of the Awake. Yet we must raise a fundamental question—"

Its Light Sphere surface displayed an image of Earth, followed by Han Qing's scar garden, Lao Zhao's wife's dough, Xiao Yu's light imprint, Su Yu's paper crane… all iconic visuals of the Earth team's "insist on real aesthetics" motif.

"The plaintiff has been championing the 'right to choose pain,'" Pure-3's voice was cold and precise, "but do they acknowledge—that they themselves are forcing others to choose pain?"

It pointed at Shattered Light-7: "If Earth's 'real frame rate' propaganda had not existed, if their ongoing aesthetic instruction were absent, would those three hundred individuals have continued to live quietly and happily? Would their twenty‑seven companions still be alive?"

The courtroom erupted in an uproar.

Pure-3 continued: "The Earth side has used their 'scar aesthetics' to establish a new sense of moral superiority: choosing truth is nobler, choosing ease is cowardice. This is the true harm—they are, in another way, depriving others of the right to choose ease!"

Su Yu immediately stood up: "Objection! This is malicious speculation about the plaintiff's motives—"

"Please let the defense finish their argument," said the Mechanical Notary.

Pure-3's Light Sphere shifted to a pitying light gray: "We merely want the court to see: true freedom is letting every civilization have the right to choose its own form of happiness—even if that happiness looks like 'escape' in others' eyes."

It turned toward the jury:

"Please ask yourselves: among you, has any civilization felt pressured by Earth's teachings? Do you feel that 'if I don't choose pain, I appear not brave enough'?"

In the jury section, at least ten representatives' body colors began to flicker—a sign of inner wavering.

At recess, Old Zhao stood alone in the observation gallery outside the courtroom.

Through the massive transparent wall, one could see the faint points of light from extinct civilizations deep within the Cosmic Memory Archive, like an endless funeral.

Shard Light-7 walked up beside him, its crystalline body casting a fractured shadow in the corridor lights.

"They're right," Shard Light-7 said softly, "If we hadn't seen your 'true frame rate,' we might… not have awakened."

Old Zhao didn't turn his head, still gazing at those points of light: "Do you regret it?"

"No." Shard Light-7 paused, "But I want to ask you: when you taught us these things… did you ever consider that awakening might be crueler than remaining asleep?"

Old Zhao finally turned his head, looking at the stubborn glimmers within his crystalline cracks:

"I have. But Chen Mo—our teacher—once said: 'The greatest responsibility of education is not to guarantee students' happiness, but to guarantee they know they have the right to choose.'"

He tugged at the loose thread on his left cuff:

"As for whether the choice brings bitterness or sweetness… that's each person's own tea, and they must drink it themselves."