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

When the Tianheng landing ship restarted its engines, the moon's far side lighthouse suddenly went out for a second.

In that instant, the same old, piercing warning rang out on everyone's communication channels simultaneously.

Those who leave the far side of the moon must submit proof of their return journey.

Lu Chen's hand was already half-crippled, yet he still instinctively lifted the broken bow. Lin Xiaoman, clutching her father's employee badge, tears still streaming down her face, was startled by the voice and sat bolt upright. Xu Wangshu didn't look up; she spread the shattered moon painting on her lap, her fingertips swiftly tracing the still-healing silver patterns.

"It's not the Southern Heavenly Gate," she said. "It's the boundary rule triggered right after the lighthouse was built. It's asking whether we have the right to bring back to Earth what happened on the far side of the moon."

Wen Zhaolin sat at the stern, his suit jacket torn to shreds by the fine white moon dust. He looked up at her: "The old Heavenly Court loved this kind of thing." Wen Zhaolin's voice was low, "It's not in a hurry to kill you; it makes you lose your footing first."

"Shut up," Lu Chenggong said coldly.

"Let him speak." Xu Wangshu stared intently at Yue Tu. "He knows the rules."

Wen Zhaolin was silent for a moment, even his breathing became soft, and he said in a low voice, "There are three kinds of proof of return." Wen Zhaolin looked at the small light outside the window, as if reciting an old poem he had long memorized, "Heavenly Court authorization, divine guarantee, or wreckage coordinates. You don't have the first two."

He looked at the small lamp outside the porthole covered in frost and mist.

The lighthouse on the far side of the moon flickered slightly and uneasily, as if someone far away was urging them to stop dawdling.

A line of text appeared on the moon map.

Don't listen to him trying to scare you.

Xu Wangshu's eyes stung, but she immediately suppressed them: "Lin Jibai, give me the coordinates."

The lamp did not answer immediately.

The next moment, the landing ship's navigation screen suddenly turned red. Its original trajectory back to Earth had been veered off course by an invisible hand, pointing instead to an unnamed shadow deeper on the far side of the moon. There, no modern exploration data was found, only a string of ancient characters resembling broken bone joints.

[Outer edge of the remains of Mount Buzhou.]

Lin Xiaoman suddenly looked up: "Brother, where do you want us to go?"

Xu Wangshu's heart sank deeper and deeper into the cold, fine white lunar dust. Based on their remaining fuel, they could only return to Earth; any detour would prevent the landing craft from braking. But without submitting a return-to-base certificate, the boundary rules would leave them forever on the far side of the moon.

Obstacles came faster than choices. A dense, rapid pounding sound came from the outer wall of the capsule, like countless fingernails scraping metal. In the monitor, rows of small white tablets emerged from the fine, white moonlight dust. Each tablet was engraved with a name, some clear, some erased, leaving only a number.

Wen Zhaolin's expression finally changed: "Archived Tablet. Those deemed unable to return by the old Heavenly Court will be erected here."

One of the new monuments is taking shape.

The first three characters on the monument are: Lin Jibai.

Then came Xu Wangshu, Lin Xiaoman, and Lu Chenggong.

The stele forest keeps growing. Every half meter forward, a new stele appears outside the porthole.

Xu Wangshu closed the moon map, his voice deep and steady: "Echo of the Lighthouse Core, requesting rebuttal."

The moon is silent.

Lin Xiaoman suddenly pressed her father's employee ID badge onto the picture: "Use Dad's permissions!"

The employee badges lit up silently, and Lin Wangchuan's old repairman number matched the moon map. Xu Wangshu immediately understood that she wasn't trying to prove her own sanctity, but rather to prove that these people still owed humanity unfinished business. She wrote the reason for returning home after each person's name: Lin Xiaoman needed to escape the key exposure, Lu Chenggong needed to destroy the Nine-Day Fragment Bow, and Wen Zhaolin needed to face human judgment.

She paused for a moment when writing about herself.

Lu Chengong gritted his teeth: "You need to extract the Gonggong variable."

Xu Wangshu picked up his pen and wrote: Xu Wangshu, the initial recorder of the Moonlit Lighthouse, needs to return to the human world to establish a testimony file and find a physical recovery plan for Lin Jibai.

The growth of archived monuments has slowed down.

The monument in Kelinjibai is still growing taller.

Lin Xiaoman panicked: "Where's my brother? He wants to go home too!"

A line of text appeared on the moon image, intermittently.

[Lin Jibai... Current Status... Lighthouse Core... Unable to Return.]

Xu Wangshu's fingertips turned white from the force. She suddenly pressed the blood from the wound on her palm and smeared it directly on the line of judgment.

"Then change the judgment."

She looked up at the lamplight outside the frosty porthole: "Lin Jibai is not material, not a priest, not a sacrifice. He is a missing person from the human world, his number registered by the human world. The Moon's Back has no right to cancel his registration."

As soon as those words were spoken, everyone in the cabin heard a very soft laugh coming from the lighthouse.

The archival monuments have collectively cracked.

The landing ship's navigation was partially restored, but instead of returning to Earth's orbit, it detoured around the outer edge of the Buzhou Mountain ruins to obtain evidence before returning to Earth.

The price is the fuel red line.

Wen Zhaolin stared at the line, his voice low and hoarse: "You will crash."

Xu Wangshu closed the painting of the moon: "Then let's fix it."

Lu Chenggong gripped the seatbelt with one hand: "I don't know how to repair ships."

Lin Xiaoman wiped away her tears: "I can listen to my dreams."

Xu Wangshu looked out of the cabin. In the shadows of the moon's far side, a black outline larger than a mountain range slowly emerged, like a broken pillar of heaven buried in the dust.

The moonlit lighthouse flashed one last time.

Don't be afraid.

That's the part my dad didn't finish fixing.

The landing ship rushed into the shadows.

Behind them, the first archival marker shattered completely, revealing a line of coordinates buried for ten years.

The remains of Mount Buzhou are indeed on the far side of the moon.

After the detour route was locked, the landing ship did not immediately leave the forest of monuments. Fragments of the archive monuments were swirled up by the engine exhaust, like a reversed snowfall, striking the frosty portholes with subtle vibrations. Xu Wangshu suddenly realized that each fragment contained a fleeting image: someone pushing aside celestial messengers in an ancient flood, someone burning erroneous lists in a modern laboratory, and a woman in old work clothes dismantling a machine about to upload its destiny number into parts. All of them failed, but they all left behind counter-evidence before their failure.

Lin Xiaoman pressed her forehead against the frosty porthole and whispered, "Do they want to go home too?"

No one answered. Lu Chengong placed the broken bow on his lap, for the first time not using a flippant tone to mask his true feelings. He stared intently at a stele deep within the forest of steles, engraved with Hou Yi's old name, and whispered, "If we can go back, I want to bring these names back with me. The Hou Yi lineage shouldn't only remember shooting down the suns, but also who refused to draw their bows towards the human world."

Wen Zhaolin looked up, as if pierced by those words. He used to despise meaningless commemorations, believing they couldn't reduce hunger, disease, or war. But now he saw that the system deleted commemorations first. Because as long as people remember who once rebelled, they won't completely believe they are born to obey.

Xu Wangshu pressed this footage into his return bag and named it "Beilin Appendix I: The Unarchived." The edges of the moon map were slightly warm. The distant lighthouse also lit up briefly, as if someone was nodding in the impenetrable darkness.

Xu Wangshu wanted to record the coordinates immediately, but found that the lunar map refused to save them directly. It displayed a message: "Coordinates must be confirmed by witnesses." So the four of them pressed their fingerprints, and even Wen Zhaolin was forced to leave a blood sample. At that moment, the proof of return was no longer just a permit to escape, but the first piece of evidence they shared on the far side of the moon. Lin Jibai's voice echoed softly: "Don't lose it." Xu Wangshu replied, "You too."