Don't go to the moon, there are gods on the far side of the moon.

That patch of darkness wasn't empty.

When Xiaoman said this, her voice was flat, but everyone who heard it held their breath.

Why do you say that?

"Because I reached out and touched it."

The main control room fell silent instantly.

Xu Wangshu's face turned pale.

"You're reaching out through the dream network?"

"There are boundaries to the listening side," Xiaoman said. "I just put my hand on the side; I didn't go out."

"So what did you touch?"

Xiaoman didn't say, "I touched something."

She said, "I touched 'nothing'."

This sentence sounds like a tongue twister.

Qin Lan wrote it down and asked about it three times before Xiaoman's explanation gradually became clear.

In the Dream Network, the normal "blackout" is "no record".

It's like a house without lights on; you can't see anything, but it's empty and you can walk through it.

The dark patch further away in the narrow strip represents "something that can't be seen."

When you press your hand down, it doesn't pass through; it's blocked.

The thing blocking it was quite hard.

"It's not like a wall," Xiaoman said. "Walls are cold. This isn't cold, nor is it hot."

"What does that look like?"

"It's like someone has placed an opaque panel over the edge of my dream network."

Upon hearing this, Wen Zhaolin's expression changed.

He sat in the isolation area, wrapped in an old blanket, and remained silent for a long time. Upon hearing the words "opaque panel," he lifted the blanket slightly.

"Go on."

"It has no number," Xiaoman said. "No name, no contents. It's just a...covered thing."

Wen Zhaolin closed his eyes briefly.

"There's a category of entries like this in the old Heavenly Court's archives."

Qin Lan immediately looked at him.

"What entry?"

"It's called 'Unparsed'," Wen Zhaolin said in a dry voice. "It's not that the content is empty, it's that the content has been actively blocked. People who want to view it can only see the four words 'Unparsed Here,' and can't see anything inside."

"Who has the right to write these four words?"

"Central authority."

No one in the main control room was talking lightly anymore.

These four words are all too familiar.

Chapter 332, the blank metal piece at the bottom of the toolbox, the black disk judged it as "not to be analyzed".

At the time, everyone thought it was just a self-protective measure left by the father.

Now I understand that this format isn't just in the box.

It is still on the edge of the dream network, on the star map, in that darkness beyond the narrow band.

Xu Wangshu immediately retrieved the archive format left over from the old Heavenly Court for comparison.

The comparison results came back quickly.

The three formats are completely identical.

The first place is the metal piece of the toolbox.

The second instance is the section numbered zero that was erased from the document in question.

The third place is the black area outside the narrow band.

"It was written with the same access permissions," Qin Lan said.

"It may not be the same person," Xu Wangshu said, "but it must be the same set of central authority."

Lu Chengong leaned back in his chair and suddenly chuckled.

"So we're here to reason with Zhu Rongtai, about signatures, boundaries, and not signing on behalf of others," he said. "They've already put a board on the star map."

"What's under that board?" Lin Xiaoman asked.

No one can answer that.

She thought about the file name for a long time.

The last thing written is: Unresolved area - to be investigated.

After she finished writing, she added another line.

"Pending investigation" does not mean "available for investigation." Any approach requires the individual's application and confirmation from all three parties.

She didn't want the word "to be checked" to be the beginning of the next automatically compiled list.

Wen Zhaolin looked at the line of words and suddenly whispered something that no one would have expected.

"In the old file that I signed, there was also a 'not parsed' note."

All eyes turned to him.

"Which one?" Xu Wangshu asked.

Wen Zhaolin opened his mouth, but in the end he took his words back.

"I can't remember," he said. "I remember the format, but the content is gone."

The main control room fell silent.

Nobody forced him.

But everyone understood: even the person who wrote down this format had a piece of their memory erased from their own.

"No need to say it now," Xu Wangshu said finally. "But remember one thing—on the day you can remember, tell a person first, not the system."