Three minutes and twelve seconds later.

The next batch of Cleaner Association members arrived, and the scene before them shocked everyone. Pure white, beautiful butterflies filled the entire concert hall, resembling countless lives at rest. The light and sand scattered across the thousands of butterfly wings reflected all the wonderful and happy moments from the people's lives. Faces frozen in smiles silently told the story that they didn't suffer any pain before death.

The grandeur and tragic beauty left everyone speechless for a long time until they felt their cheeks wet, realizing they had been silently weeping.

"Are they... all dead?" someone murmured in disbelief. He saw a small butterfly resting on his finger, recognizing it as his lover's transformation despite the gulf between life and death. She had left peacefully, going to an Eden devoid of suffering and sorrow.

People were immersed in this tragic sentiment, forgetting that hundreds of their companions had perished within just three minutes and twelve seconds, leaving no corpses behind, only beautiful, tragic butterflies dancing in the air.

The Prism Tier Cleaner, Disaster Whale, was unaffected. Unable to bear the sight any longer, he took a deep breath, his strength reaching his feet, his abdomen swelling. With a loud roar, all the flying white butterflies vanished into the sound waves, turning into a mist of light and sand. The people were freed from their sorrow, looking at each other, not understanding what had happened.

"Where is the artist?" someone asked in confusion.

Disaster Whale, towering nearly four meters high like a small hill, his explosive muscles writhing like dragons, his robust frame living up to the name of a whale, carrying a giant ship anchor on his shoulder. This man was capable of causing an oceanic catastrophe on the Star of Art.

"Who knows, perhaps self-destruction."

This was the second time the artist had resurfaced on the Star of Art. The association had sent almost all immediately deployable Cleaners to the Star of Art. At the first resurrection, they engaged in contact in the King's District, where fifty Fourth Tier Cleaners perished, and over five hundred were severely injured. The entire King's District became a Purgatory on earth. Back then, the sky above Starlight Dao was filled with disintegrating musical notes from human limbs, souls shredded into wisp-like forms drifting, screams and wails becoming visible, sketched into the air in some artistic depiction.

An uncountable number of civilians were swept into this disaster, causing economic losses of hundreds of billions worth of inspiration, devastating the Star of Art. Ultimately, it cost the rebirth and fiery rebirth of the Prism Tier Cleaner, Que Ling, to 'kill' the artist.

To be accurate, it was the artist's self-destruction after finishing the performance. Disaster Whale would never forget the scene where the monster, wearing a Silence mask, had half its body blown away yet still bowed in respect to him. It was like both a tribute to the end of a grand performance and the announcement of a new world performance's onset.

The disaster was far from over, with reconstruction not yet begun. Countless paranormal creatures crawled from the city's ruins, and ordinary people who had heard the music descended into madness, either committing suicide or attacking others, destroying key transportation routes, making post-war search and cleanup by the association a luxury. People watched helplessly as the daily casualties reported on the news increased, allowing those suffering in the King's District's Purgatory to fend for themselves.

Initially, people thought it was just another ordinary terrorist attack, but it turned out to be one of the most severe, dire, and dangerous paranormal events in nearly a century, second only to the events of the Red Dance Shoes.

No one expected the monster to resurrect just over a month later. Fortunately, this time's scale was much less than the last, indicating that through the joint efforts of the association, the artist's power had been suppressed and weakened...

As Disaster Whale was lost in thought, someone pointed to a severely injured Cleaner in the corner and shouted, "This guy is still alive!"

The man's expression was unusually calm and happy, even though his lower body was gone, his intestines spilled all over, and the bullet hole on his forehead was prominent. His entire face was like a shattered mirror, and his body continuously disintegrated into butterflies and drifted away.

Countless happy images flashed through the man's eyes. He was recalling the most beautiful time of his life when his wife held him, his daughter just learning to paint buzzed around him, and his younger son sweetly called him 'Dad' for the first time.

Disaster Whale crouched in front of the man and roared, "Hey, stay with us! Don't sleep, wake up, Li Si, think of your wife and daughter, tell us what happened!"

The man turned his head slightly, not directly answering, happiness filling his eyes, softly murmuring, "In rotten grass, a firefly shines on a summer night, decay becomes a light, guiding the way to tomorrow."

"The Butterfly Burial Master is not our target, it will bring peace and happiness to everyone..."

"And you, keep moving forward, for everyone's tomorrow."

After speaking, the happiness in the man's eyes extinguished, the blood at the corner of his mouth dried up.

"Damn it!!!" Disaster Whale roared with eyes wide in anguish.

...

The night gradually deepened.

A blue-haired girl sat by the hospital window, her gaze fixed on the distant starry night. Tang Xin was writing a letter to send far away, the contents of the letter were blurry, the beginning bearing the young girl's name was very conspicuous under the slightly yellow lamp light

— To You.

Where are you now?

Are you looking at the same night sky as me?

Can my gaze cross the vast light years to meet yours on some star?

Will you receive my letters?

Will we

ever meet again?

Tang Xin smiled gently, folding the letter and holding it out the window. Many birds gathered eagerly, carrying the letters filled with the girl's thoughts and emotions and flew towards the distance.

She no longer wanted to cry over such matters. She had sent many letters these days, recording her thoughts every day and sharing them with the distant girl, even though the chances of the other party receiving them were slim.

She knew everything that had happened recently on the Star of Art. The widely circulated saying was that an artist could potentially be born from any artistic creation. People's reluctance towards art turned into fear, and the overwhelming panic on the curtains transformed into verbal warfare, venting pent-up emotions. Tang Xin no longer wanted to see these things.

People could only pray before bedtime every day, hoping the artist wouldn't resurrect tomorrow and that the association's power could deal with everything swiftly, praying they wouldn't be affected by these matters, leading to inspiration drying up and turning into grotesque monsters.

The day before the New Year, the finals of the Starry Art Competition would take place at the Starry Arts Academy. Before that, she had something she must do.

Tang Xin was mentally and physically exhausted just dealing with the aftermath left by Dream Chasing Media after Xu Xiaoyou's departure. Many things she was trying for the first time, bearing the burdens and expectations of hundreds of artists within the whole company, all rested on her shoulders.

Investors who used to greet her with smiles had turned into cunning foxes wearing masks, setting countless traps waiting for her to fall into. With the slightest carelessness, she would drag the entire company along with her into an abyss of no return.

She had to be very careful, even more careful, just overly cautious...

But she was just an ordinary girl sitting in a wheelchair, unable to sing or share her sorrow with anyone.

For this,

she had no choice but to rely on her family's power.

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