Chapter 605: Entering Dreams, Stirring Conflict

Chapter 605: Entering Dreams and Clashing

“A sequence most cunning and deceitful, yet learning to speak of brotherhood. Zhao Mengzhe, what is it you truly desire?”

Wuji Chun’s voice carried a smile across his face as he spoke softly.

“It seems you’ve misunderstood the Yin-Yang Order. Among the nine schools and four teachings, there is the ‘Ruler of the Heavens and Earth’—how could you call it the ‘most’?”

At this moment, Zhao Mengzhe manifested in the dreamscape, his form immaculate.

Clad in a black robe, a round pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. If he added the trademark ‘All-Seeing’ pendant, he’d resemble a street fortune-teller from the heart of the Ming Dynasty, peddling his wares.

“Zhao Mengzhe, among the Five Pillars of the Celestial Palace, you’re no minor figure. Even Tian Chou and Zhou Yuan haven’t fully unraveled your secrets, so we must remain cautious.”

Wuji Chun’s smile deepened as he inquired, “Did you truly expect such a turn of events?”

“If I had foreseen this, the grass at Tian Chou and Zhou Yuan’s graves would already be three chi tall.”

Zhao Mengzhe sighed, his tone one of weary resignation: “Your corrupt hearts are harder to predict than fate itself.”

“Then your talents are no better.”

This time, the voice came from the one clad in white—Wuji Di. His expression was scornful.

“Zhao Mengzhe, are you truly not a servant of the Donghuang Palace?”

Zhao Mengzhe feigned surprise, his tone dripping with mockery: “Since you fear the Donghuang Palace’s agents, yet still wish to mingle with scum who flatter tigers and lick pandas, should I praise your audacity or mock your folly?”

“You have no right to judge us.”

Wuji Summer’s lips curled in a cold smile: “Since you’re not connected to the Donghuang Palace, then die!”

The water’s surface rippled like a mirror struck by a stone, dark currents beginning to swirl beneath.

“Summer, hold your anger.”

Among the four manifestations of Wuji, the one in yellow robes—Autumn—held greater reverence. She stepped forward, halting Summer’s rage, her gaze steady on the lone figure standing a dozen paces away: Zhao Mengzhe.

“Zhao Mengzhe, our society’s purpose in entering Jin’an this time is solely to reach Tiānquè and confront Li Zhong. We have no interest in the Yin-Yang Order, nor do we wish to create more enemies.”

Autumn spoke slowly: “Regardless of your ties to the Donghuang Palace, if you agree to leave Jin’an and cease your interference with Tiānquè, I can command Tian Chou to release the Grain Field, allowing your departure.”

“The ‘Three Determinations of Agriculture’ govern the realm, overseeing the flesh-and-bone Grain Field. Their name is Society itself.”

Zhao Mengzhe answered with a sneer: “Dare you use those words—how the Ming Dynasty must have perished long ago. You should change your name, lest you meet a grim fate someday, one where you cannot even weep.”

“The current Zhu family is no more than a puppet stringed by Zhang Fengyue. What difference does it make if they’re dead? The winds of fate shift; today’s Ming Dynasty bears the surname Zhu, tomorrow it might be another.”

Summer’s voice dripped with disdain: “Who suffers from whose misfortune? Who weeps at whose grave?”

“If the Zhu family were as simple as you think, when Zhang Fengyue rose to the position of Grand Chancellor and Jin Shangzong ascended the throne, the Ming Dynasty would have long since changed rulers.”

Zhao Mengzhe didn’t treat the current situation as a matter of life and death but instead adopted the guise of a mystic, his expression enigmatic.

“The intricacies here run deep. Allow me to recount them to you.”

“Should one relocate their dwelling—”

Spring interrupted Zhao Mengzhe’s words with a smile: “I’m eager to hear the secrets of the imperial palace from you, Master Zhao. Perhaps we might even become friends. But I have urgent matters to attend to; I cannot spare the time for idle chatter.”

Zhao Mengzhe groaned, clasping his arms: “These are secrets worth a thousand gold coins—others have no opportunity to hear. Today I’ve been generous, yet you show no interest. Truly a pity.”

Zhao Mengzhe paused, his gaze sweeping over the four manifestations.

“What troubles you? We all understand. Yet I advise you—Jin’an, though it is Tian Chou’s Grain Field, Li Zhong is a man of martial destiny. Tian Chou’s hopes of defeating him are futile.”

“Wuji, instead of provoking chaos now, why not wait here for Li Zhong to defeat Tian Chou? You’ll gain much in the end, and I need not trouble myself with this.”

Spring smiled, stepping back as if to dismiss him with disdain.

“The Grain Field is set. In the torrent of blood and flesh, a martial prodigy’s lone path is but a praying mantis wielding a cart.”

Winter sneered: “Yet you, Zhao Mengzhe, a true master of the Yin-Yang Order, to stall time, even resorted to sowing discord. Truly absurd.”

“I don’t wish to waste words either. The culprit is late enough as it is.”

Zhao Mengzhe spread his palms, his expression one of helplessness.

“Old fool, you’ve forgotten your own rudeness. These two Yin-Yang Order masters know how difficult it is to squeeze into the fourth dream realm.”

Suddenly, a grumbling voice echoed through this world.

Zhou SiuJiu pushed his sleeves back, stepping out from Zhao Mengzhe’s side.

“Hmph, there are more people than I thought.”

Zhao Mengzhe glanced sideways at Zhou SiuJiu, his tone irritable: “What, the more people there are, the scarier it gets?”

Zhou SiuJiu nodded: “Of course. They play with new straw, while us laggards, can we match them?”

“New strength emerges, old strength endures. She pulled me in, so I can pull her. Why the need to belittle myself?”

Zhao Mengzhe scoffed, stubble bristling: “As master of the fourth dream realm, you lead. If you act, it should be fine, right?”

Zhou SiuJiu rolled his eyes, sighing as he rolled up his sleeves: “One against four? Old Zhao, you think I’m invincible like Huang Liang Wudui?”

He shook his head, muttering: “Still, we can’t let you beat me to death alone. That would be too much of a sin.”

The four manifestations of Wuji simultaneously cast disdainful glances at the two strangers.

“Zhao Mengzhe, this is your aid? A fourth-level Yin-Yang Order master, Zhou Diao?”

Winter, the most cold and haughty of the four, scrutinized Zhou SiuJiu from head to toe.

“To divide my four-person group into different dream realms, how many dream realms could you claim as your own? Such a burden—how long could you endure it? Even with the Gift of Eternal Life, how many could you defeat?”

“Why do you all look down on me?”

Zhou SiuJiu shook his head, tugging at his collar.

“Is it because killing in a dream doesn’t count as killing? So you all think I’m a pushover?”

The lake’s surface churned, its clear waters muddied.

Beneath Zhao Mengzhe’s feet, an inky abyss stretched onward, teeming with countless sea monsters.

In the realm of the four Wuji manifestations, colors of green, red, yellow, and white intertwined in splendid hues.

“Little SiuJiu, can we two of us overcome this peril? That depends on you.”

Zhao Mengzhe removed his glasses, tossing them to Zhou SiuJiu.

The latter caught them, fastened them over his eyes, and grinned.

“Rest assured, in confronting adversity and turning it to fortune, no one surpasses me!”

“Then let’s begin.”

Waves surged, beasts roared.

The figures standing on the water’s surface plunged into the depths, descending to the deepest reaches of Huang Liang.

The dream realm began.

The earth cradled by whispers, where shadows dance and secrets stir,

A crumbling sanctuary, its remnants clinging to dust,

A relic of reverence, now cradled in the weight of time’s slow hand.

Beneath the weight of unspoken truths, a fragile truce,

Where past and present entwine in silent dialogue.

The weight of memory presses close, a silent requiem,

While whispers of forgotten paths linger, faint yet insistent.

Here, in this threshold of existence, truths unfold in hues unseen,

Yet still, the echoes remain, a silent testament to what was.