Chapter 617: The Call (2)

Chapter 617: The Call (2)

"Hey, you brat, still not awake?"

In a daze, Zou Sijiu heard someone calling him.

"We're almost there, time to wake up."

Before Zou Sijiu could even see where he was, a strange tune rang in his ears, gongs and drums intermingling, voices warbling—like an old opera no one listened to anymore.

"Clothes torn, dogs bite, at a dead end, a broken bridge. The world gives more cold stares than true feelings. Short clothes invite laughter, long robes mean even deeper despair..."

As his vision cleared, Zou Sijiu found himself sitting in a speeding carriage. The road ahead was straight, and at its end lay the vague outline of a city.

He turned to look beside him. The dim yellow sun hung on the horizon, fiery evening clouds embracing the distant mountains.

The old man's profile was framed in a soft afterglow. One hand held the steering wheel, the other rested on the window, with a glowing cigarette between his fingers, a faint wisp of smoke drifting upward.

"People age easily, troubles abound, dreams never last long."

Zhao Mengze tapped along to the tune, drawing out the words, but singing off-key, making it laughable.

"A deep love, three parts shallow earth, half a wall of setting sun..."

The vocals faded, and the plaintive sound of an erhu filled the carriage.

Zhao Mengze seemed quite pleased with his singing. A smile tugged at his lips as he took a deep drag from his cigarette. His eyes glanced at the still-dazed Zou Sijiu.

"What's with that dazed look? Did you have a dream?"

"Yeah, I was dreaming."

Zou Sijiu turned to look ahead, leaned his head back against the seat, and let out a long, heavy breath.

"In the dream, you died pretty horribly."

Zhao Mengze asked with a smile: "How horrible?"

Zou Sijiu said slowly: "Let's just say, I didn't even have time to see you off properly before you closed your eyes."

"That doesn't sound all that horrible."

Zhao Mengze's tone was light: "There are plenty of people who want to leave quietly but don't have that fortune. Besides, what's that saying? 'Since time immemorial, who has escaped death?'"

"That was said by some Confucian scholar. You're a yin-yang old charlatan—what does that have to do with you?"

Zou Sijiu couldn't help but laugh.

"Then what do you suggest? Should I wail and cry, grab someone's sleeve and talk about my hard life, hoping for a few worthless tears? Or should I grit my teeth, swallow my hatred, and do some heinous act to try to defy my fate?" Zou Sijiu retorted: "Isn't defying fate exactly what the Yin-Yang Order is supposed to do?"

"What has the Old Lord done wrong? Why always think of going against him?"

Zou Sijiu teased: "They say the older you get, the more you fear death. I didn't expect you to be so open-minded about it."

"Being unable to let go is just because there's too much you don't want to lose. I've heard people say that the hardest things to see through in life are four: life and death, right and wrong, success and failure, honor and disgrace."

Zhao Mengze said calmly: "But for me, I never seemed to care about any of them."

"Oh, come off it, old man."

Zou Sijiu snorted: "You lost your life at the gambling table. Which of those four things did you escape?"

"Undermining me like that is not right! Can't you leave me with a towering image? Don't you know the saying, 'If you don't listen to the old, you'll suffer when you're bold'?" Zhao Mengze's tone was irritated.

"Of course your image is towering, and I'll certainly listen."

Zou Sijiu laughed heartily: "You'd better say something I'd like to hear."

"That's right, that's the attitude a younger generation should have."

Zhao Mengze laughed as well, but after finishing that sentence, he suddenly fell silent.

The evening wind, the afterglow, the wilderness. A long carriage on a straight road, but the spreading night was relentlessly chasing from behind.

"Old man, say a bit more."

For some reason, Zou Sijiu's voice carried a pleading tone.

He stared straight ahead, not daring to look to his side.

"No wonder you're such a henpecked husband. How can a grown man be so sentimental?"

Zhao Mengze laughed heartily: "Actually, I have nothing more to say. You're far better than me. At your age, I was still building dreams for others to earn a meal. I never even dared to dream that one day I'd become a big shot in Order Three."

"Everything I have, you gave me. Otherwise, I'd have been killed like a dog long ago."

Zhao Mengze looked gratified, but shook his head: "You don't need to flatter me. I just taught you one technique. It's nothing worth mentioning, no need to keep remembering it."

Zou Sijiu's voice was heavy: "Say something anyway, old man. At least give me something to do. Don't worry, I'll do it well."

"Nothing more. My old friends are all waiting for me on the road."

Zhao Mengze changed the subject: "But Sijiu, tell me, does one have to suffer a lot to gain the power to calm the wind and rain?"

"It's because one has suffered too much, endured too many storms, that one wants to gain power."

Zou Sijiu's expression darkened: "But storms always come too fast."

"That's why there are front and back, old and young, father and son."

Zhao Mengze said softly: "Sijiu, don't let the storm drench the people you care about."

The long road was ending, and the city's outline became clear.

"Actually, I should have chosen a world with beautiful scenery, found a fine day to see you off."

Zou Sijiu smiled bitterly: "But now, instead, you've sent me off one more time."

"I can only send you this far."

The carriage slowly stopped. Zhao Mengze held the steering wheel with both hands, his voice somewhat ethereal, hard to make out.

"It's enough."

Zou Sijiu nodded and reached for the door handle.

"Sijiu, have you really decided to go in?"

The man's hand paused: "Why do you ask?"

"You already have the ability to leave. Why risk danger again?"

Zou Sijiu was silent for a moment: "You told me that if one day I found a dream that made me feel exhilarated and utterly content, I would become the Dream Master of Order Three. Now I've found it."

"Why does it have to be a dream full of fighting and killing? There are many joyful things in life."

"You just said that the hardest things to see through are four. Actually, I've heard that saying too. There's another part after it: that these four things together are actually just one word—'I'."

Zou Sijiu said each word with force: "Now Xin'an is right before me. If I don't go in, I will never have peace of mind in my life."

Seeing his resolve was firm and unchangeable,

The old man no longer tried to persuade him, letting him push the door and get out.

"Then farewell, Sijiu."

Alone in the car, Zhao Mengze released the steering wheel, looking at the retreating figure, and said softly with a smile.

At the same time, as if sensing something, Zou Sijiu turned back to look.

Behind him there was no longer any cart or road, cloud or mountain; only the boundless night filled the heavens and the earth.

Everything was as if he were talking to himself, muttering to himself.

“Farewell.”

Zou Sijiu's gaze was calm, as he waved his hand to bid farewell to his own illusory heart barrier, and at the same time severed the fear and cowardice and the instinct to flee that permeated his heart.

At this moment, he was truly entering the dream.

On the main road into the city, fields of flesh and blood were spread, and it was crowded with agricultural beasts and demons.

Malice like a substance filled every corner, and hungry gazes locked onto him.

“No wonder you still have the courage to sit at the table; it turns out you have been promoted to Dream Lord. But Zou Sijiu, in this dream, I have all the advantages of heaven, earth, and man. What will you use to defeat me?”

Countless hideous faces spoke the same words, the sound waves like an avalanche and tsunami.

Murderous intent surged, heaven and earth changed color, and a torrential rain poured down.

“I just told myself, somewhat pretentiously, not to let the wind and rain soak me again, and now you come to slap my face—truly not giving me any face at all.”

Zou Sijiu paused in his steps, his soaked hair hanging before his eyes.

“You can't even protect your own life, yet you still care about face—truly ridiculous. Zou Sijiu, you have already caused Zhao Mengze's death, and now you want to kill yourself. The Yin-Yang Sequence you practice to seek good fortune and avoid disaster has been reduced to this—how ironic.”

A contemptuous voice came from deep within the beast pack.

The Four Bodies of the Witch Shrine, each wearing a different bright color but sharing one face, appeared together.

Spring Body laughed: “I was wondering where you got the confidence to construct a dream and fight for your life, so I invested heavily to dominate this dream. But now it seems it's nothing more than a common man's anger—brave but reckless.”

Summer Body glared: “So what if you've been promoted to Dream Lord? Zhao Mengze was also a Dream Lord, and he lost, his soul scattered. You will share the same fate!”

Winter Body shouted coldly: “Now, as you wished, I have entered the dream with four lives. What can you do to me?”

Autumn Body whispered: “Zou Sijiu, a wise man submits to circumstances. You still have a chance to live. I advise you not to ruin yourself. Do you want to cause the death of the Bright Ghost inside you as well?”

“You talk too much.”

Zou Sijiu shook his head with a smile, wiped his hands across his temples, and brushed back his wet, messy hair, revealing a sudden chill in his eyes.

“You are the dreamweaver of this dream, possessing the advantages of heaven, earth, and man here. So what? Who told you I'm going to fight you here?”

“Ridiculous, Zou Sijiu, do you think you still have a chance to escape...”

The hot-tempered Summer Body had not finished speaking when suddenly her expression and those of the other three bodies changed drastically.

Countless pitch-black floodwaters surged from every street and alley, instantly submerging the entire long street and rising at an extremely rapid pace.

“Roar!”

The pack of agricultural beasts instantly became restless, writhing in the bone-chilling floodwaters and letting out uneasy, terrified roars.

This was no illusion!

The Witch Shrine immediately determined that it was not an illusion created by Zou Sijiu through some technique, and that the dream rules she had set had not been stolen or altered by any external force.

But these floodwaters, coming from nowhere, were clearly drowning this dream.

Or, more accurately, her own dream was sinking into this floodwater.

How was this possible?

“Don't understand? Then let me tell you, this is the true Yellow Millet Nether Sea.”

Zou Sijiu's cold, dark gaze saw through the Witch Shrine's thoughts.

“The Eastern Palace told you about Old Zhao's details. You, who can mix and split life consciousness, don't fear the 'Same Longevity as Heaven and Earth.' So in the previous three dreams, although you lost twice and tied once, you still managed to drain him to the point of utter exhaustion, his soul scattered.”

“You cultivated flesh organs to replace the Yellow Millet mainframe, constructing your own new Yellow Millet, and gained dream-weaving abilities no less than the Yin-Yang Sequence. I have to admire that.”

Zou Sijiu's voice turned cold: “But I tell you, the fake can never become real. You can't handle dreams, and you can't stop the Yellow Millet Nether Sea!”

Spring Body of the Witch Shrine stood in the floodwater that had already reached her calves, screaming in shock: “You don't have the authority over the Yellow Millet, nor do you have the backdoor of the Eastern Palace. What gives you the right to summon the Yellow Millet Nether Sea?!”

“The Eastern Palace is not the Yin-Yang Sequence, and the Yellow Millet is not a dead thing. This is its gift to me, a new Dream Lord—a rule I set.”

Zou Sijiu's voice suddenly softened, as if whispering to someone.

“Old Zhao, I have to say, you really have a knack for naming things. 'Same Longevity as Heaven and Earth'—it sounds quite imposing. But my rule is no less impressive. I call it...”

Zou Sijiu lifted his head, a smile on his face: “The Great Dream Without Boundaries!”

Boom!

A terrifying wave that reached from the sky to the earth rose behind Zou Sijiu, crashing forward with irresistible force.

Before the horrified eyes of the Witch Shrine's Four Bodies, fine cracks appeared where the wave passed, as if their dream could not bear this power. The crisp sound of shattering glass rang out incessantly.

Nowhere to hide, powerless to resist.

Crash!

The wave crashed down. Amidst the thunderous roar, countless agricultural beasts and the carefully constructed New Anji Field of the Witch Shrine were completely destroyed.

The dream shattered, and the scene spun and changed.

When the Witch Shrine's Four Bodies came to their senses, they found themselves in a vast, cold, and pitch-black ocean.

The Four Bodies, with lingering fear in their eyes, looked around and found that, aside from an omnipresent sense of repulsion, they were unharmed, and even their strength had not diminished in the slightest. They couldn't help but feel a bit reassured.

What Great Dream Without Boundaries? So it's nothing after all!

“Zou Sijiu, even if you can pull me into the Yellow Millet Nether Sea, so what? Here you have no authority or backdoor. You, a newly promoted Sequence Three, can you possibly...”

“Yin-Yang Sorcerer, Master of the Yellow Millet...”

A sudden, loud command interrupted the simultaneous clamor of the Witch Shrine's Four Bodies.

Zou Sijiu stood on the sea surface, his expression solemn, as if he had merged with this realm of heaven and earth.

“My name is Zou Sijiu. In the name of the Third Dream Lord of the Yin-Yang Sequence, I command the Nether Sea to concentrate my thoughts and invite the gods!”

Zou Sijiu gazed ahead, a smile slowly curving at the corners of his mouth.

“Dao Sequence, Chen Qisheng!”

As soon as the words fell, a whirlpool suddenly formed on the sea, and a figure in a green robe burst through the surface!

“Master Zou, who are we killing this time? Her?”

Chen Qisheng held his sword before him, his gaze contemptuous, as if he were a real person.

“Martial Sequence, Su Ce!”

Zou Sijiu continued to recite the next name.

As his voice fell, an old man appeared out of thin air.

With a thin and gaunt figure, he stood with his hands behind his back, yet he was like a majestic mountain standing in the ocean.

“I'm troubling you, old master.”

Zou Sijiu smiled and clasped his hands in a bow to the aged martial artist.

“A small matter. How many Sequence Threes are on the other side? Or is there a Sequence Two?”

“Only one Agricultural Sequence Three.”

The old man sighed with deep regret upon hearing this: "Ah, so it's just a piece of trash."

"Old Li, your turn."

Zou Sijiu gave a faint smile and said softly: "Wu Xu, Li Jun."

A fully armored warrior, wreathed in black flames, plunged down from the heavens.

"The last one, Yin-Yang Sequence, Zou Sijiu."

Zou Sijiu called out his own name, stepped forward, and stood shoulder to shoulder with the three.

"You have four lives, and I have four people. Now I'll tell you what I can do here."

Zou Sijiu looked at the four figures of the witch shrine before him—eyes vacant, faces pale—and slowly uttered two words.

"One-on-one!"