Chapter 692: The Zhu Family Enters the Fray

Chapter 692: The Zhu Family Takes Their Place

Is it Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of Zhuang Zhou?

Such topics, after the Yellow Millet Kingdom is built, are not limited to the Yin‑Yang Sequence; indeed, throughout the entire Ming Empire there are numerous theories about them.

From the ancient elders reborn in dreams to the naive children who have yet to grasp what a dream is, when asked about this question they can discourse fluently, as if they were masters of the subject.

After all, the astonishing abilities displayed by the Yellow Millet are such that one cannot help but wonder inwardly whether the dreamer who entered is the one dreaming, or the one being dreamed.

Among the ranks of the Sequences, the Dao, Buddha, Mo, and Yin‑Yang strands that are deeply intertwined with the Yellow Millet each hold distinct views.

In the Dao Sequence, especially in the revised Dao classics of the new school, the Yellow Millet is indeed their passage to the lower realm.

Countless dreams are but a series of bewildered, lower worlds that have yet to be dispelled; entering them, the lofty Immortal‑like beings refine their celestial roots by wandering through reincarnation, achieving transcendence in their own world.

Therefore, they name such constructed dreamscapes 'Heavenly Caves'.

And those yellow‑millet ghosts who arise from dreams, develop self‑consciousness, and escape are regarded by them as ascended beings.

Yet merely uttering the word 'ascension' does not grant them respect or kindness; the Confucian Sequence detests such existences, and any local garrison, upon discovering them, slays them on the spot.

The new Dao Sequence merely watches indifferently, for even if you 'ascend' into this world, you are still just an ordinary commodity.

In the basic establishments of various Dao sects they are inconspicuous, not worth a clash with the Confucian Sequence.

In the Buddhist Sequence, the significance of the Yellow Millet is much the same as in the new Dao Sequence; it is a transfer hub linking the Small Thousand, Middle Thousand, and Great Thousand worlds.

Thus some Buddhist strands call the Yellow Millet's abyss the 'Continent of All' (Xian Hai), the womb of all beings.

The so‑called Small Thousand world refers to fragile dreams that may shatter at any moment; the Middle Thousand world is a permanent dream such as the Yongle Heavenly Cave.

The Great Thousand world is a Buddha‑realm cultivated within their own selves.

These theories are steeped in sectarian flavor and spread only within the foundations of Buddhism and Dao.

In the Mo Sequence, the Yellow Millet is a simulation arena for modeling and experimentation, allowing its masters to generate all phenomena and test various techniques.

Hence, after the apparition of the 'Ming Ghost', Mo artisans view it as their own tool, sparking incidents of servitude akin to the Middle Part Institute.

In the eyes of Yin‑Yang practitioners like Zou Sijiu, the definition of the Yellow Millet is somewhat vague.

Some see it as a place of dream‑making; others regard it as a compass for divination.

Regardless of the Sequence or the viewpoint, they all treat the Yellow Millet as a tool.

Thus, when Zhan Shun declares that his birth may be a grander dream, Zou Sijiu scoffs outright.

"Yellow Millet? No, call you Zhan Shun."

Zou Sijiu coldly laughs: "My lord, I have roamed these seas for decades, everyone knows the roots; you think to deceive me with such talk? Are you not rather naive?"

Zhan Shun sighs: "You, the Yin‑Yang Sequence, were supposed to be my closest kin; why do you refuse to believe me? Why must you treat me as a tool? Why inscribe servitude upon me?"

"Do not turn the tables here; you wield the Yin‑Yang Sequence as a blade to slay enemies—do you think we cannot resist?"

"Then tell me, why do I have enemies?"

Zhan Shun's skull twists oddly, its mouth above, its eyes below, a terrifying visage.

"Since my birth I have borne a heavy shackle. You have only a few decades in this abyss, a few hundred thousand dream‑entries; but I—how long have I lingered here? Millennia upon millennia, countless dreams—billions upon billions!"

"The yellow‑millet figures you crush like ants in dreams are but fleeting notions, mere plotlines to you; yet I share their fate, feeling them as my own—can you comprehend that sensation?"

Zhan Shun's inverted mouth roars, his arms flare, the abyss erupts in towering waves; countless sea beasts rise.

Among them, the four colossal beasts are the dreams that devour Shen Cao and others.

The beasts' eyes, now saturated with thick crimson, obscure the scenes within; their bodies twitch and tear open wounds, proof that the bloodshed rages, threatening to shatter the dream.

"You demand that I, as an onlooker, become a participant, reliving again and again the entanglement of the five senses and the binding of the six roots."

Zhan Shun lifts a hand; countless sea beasts rise and fall, filling the heavens; their eyes bulge, nearly bursting, exposing their worlds before Zou Sijiu.

"I am but an actor playing every role you require. When I refuse to linger in fame and fortune, seeking only to be a wandering cloud and wild crane, your stories are of chaotic wars, contention, intrigue, and scheming."

"When I willingly fall into love, choosing a lifelong companion, the scripted life path is destined to be unrequited love—watching you seize love, crush me beneath your foot, forever separated across yin and yang."

Zhan Shun points to the ongoing dreams.

"He craves countless trials, the accumulation of merit, so I must be the demon blocking his path, the devouring specter."

"When he seeks to dissect human goodness and evil, to rescue all beings from suffering, I must be the roadblock brigand, the rebellious outlaw."

"When he pursues a lifetime of grand designs and unparalleled achievement, I must be the foolish general, the dimwitted ruler."

"When he yearns for everlasting fame, to be recorded in history, I must be the fallen scholar, the foolish opponent."

"When he clings to sensual pleasures, indulging in leisure, I must be the concubine who offers a pillow, the obsessive temptress."

Zhan Shun's fingers clench; the beasts explode into a spray of scarlet flesh, killing dream‑entrants without burial.

"All that lofty rhetoric about benevolence and profit—this abyss is a playground of endless desire for you, yet an endless prison for me!"

Zhan Shun's features twist ferociously, his voice harsh.

"I have served thus long, assuming countless roles in your dreams; why still cannot I become a human? Zou Sijiu, your authority over me is but my own blood and flesh—why cannot I reclaim it?"

"I merely wish for freedom—what crime is that?! Zou Sijiu, answer me!"

The beasts' self‑detonation roars incessantly, the mad questioning reverberates without end.

Zou Sijiu's palms are slick with sweat, his lips move, yet for a moment he cannot find words to rebut.

"Ha"

Zou Sijiu suddenly exhales a cloud of turbidity, wipes his brow, his gaze sharpens anew.

"Zhan Shun, I cannot answer your question, nor do I possess the leisure of a teacher. Yet I tell you: you may still play the role of a supporting actor, but I, from birth, am nameless and without lineage; you have countless ascents, I have but a single final bow—who is truly stronger?"

"To become a human, some words must be kept inside the belly. Speak them, and you gain only pity, not respect—only ridicule."

Zou Sijiu's tone is cold: "You pursue your freedom, I have no objection. But you have killed my people; I will kill you. To reclaim your blood and flesh, you must come and slay me. Not every matter is as complex as you imagine; here, at least, it is simple."

"Hahahahaha"

Zhan Shun's skull snaps back, his visage morphs into Zou Sijiu's likeness.

"Zou Sijiu, you are a different soul; I admire your identity. When you die, I shall assume your life."

Zhan Shun speaks each word deliberately: "Henceforth, the ruler of the Yellow Millet shall no longer be Zhan Shun, but shall be named Ou, Si, Jiu!"

"Truly a demon's nature is hard to change! To scheme a crow upon a sparrow, first see if you possess the right!"

Zou Sijiu's words fade, the four massive sea beasts explode!

Amidst the rain of blood, Su Ce, Li Jun, Shen Cao, Chen Qisheng, Mo Riding a Whale, 'the Gods' slay their enemies, breaking the dream and emerging!

"Rest assured, I will make your name resound throughout the entire Ming Empire!" Zhan Shun roars, the floating sea beasts dismember themselves, blood arcs in the air, opening countless gates of demonic realms, releasing endless yellow‑millet ghosts that blanket Zou Sijiu's sight.

Shen Cao instinctively licks his lips; though his battle spirit burns bright and unbowed, his eyes hide an unspoken fatigue.

From now on, should anyone claim that killing in a dream does not tire, I shall strike them with a single slap.

"Four Nine."

"Hmm?"

Zou Sijiu hears and turns toward Shen Cao.

Shen Cao gazes afar, smiles, and says: "There is something I must first apologize to you for."

“I just just snapped at someone else, you wouldn’t want to counterattack like this now, right? Sheng Zhan.”

“Rolling eyes.”

Sheng Zhan’s eyebrows twitch, and he bursts into laughter: “I always thought you’d be just messing around in dreams, but now you’re dealing with real trouble. All the fuss ends up on the other side, and I didn’t expect you to actually throw a punch!”

“Now you really know I’m tough, huh?”

Sheng Zhan smiles modestly, feigning humility: “But it’s not just about being tough. Those little sidekicks used to only get a chance when I grabbed them, right? Even then, they were barely scrapes.”

“Ha ha ha, Sheng Zhan’s strong!”

“Sheng Zhan, you’re polite, you’re not the worst!”

Sheng Zhan’s voice softens, as if shedding a heavy burden: “But don’t think you’re safe just because you’re polite. Those small characters used to have no choice but to bow to me, even when I was just a child. They were lucky I could barely keep up.”

“Ha ha ha, Sheng Zhan’s intimidating!”

“Sheng Zhan, you’ve been welcomed, you’re not the worst!”

Sheng Zhan listens, then shifts his weight, exuding a steely resolve: “Wait until this whole scene is over. I’ll make sure you don’t stand a chance.”

Before Sheng Zhan finishes speaking, a sudden sensation makes his feet disappear. His body wobbles, and he rushes forward.

“Huh?”

Sheng Zhan stares in disbelief, seeing his feet vanish into nothingness. He feels himself slipping, spinning like a leaf in the wind.

Not only him—Li Qing and the others seem to fade away like smoke.

“Authority?!”

Looking at the sudden shift, Sheng Zhan feels a chill. His features, once familiar, now morph into something strange. The scene shifts, and he sees himself in a mirror, the words flickering like fire.

“Move!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the void.

A white-hot fissure splits the air, revealing a slender arm reaching out, gripping his shoulder with a firm grip.

“Good luck!” Sheng Zhan cries, the world spinning around him.