Chapter 26: The Dreamscape

It is unclear how much time had passed when Wu Que awoke on a soft, expansive bed. Opening his bleary eyes, he instinctively reached behind him. The black blade was still there. Wu Que had always felt an inexplicable reliance on this companion that had fought alongside him for so long.

"If only you could belong to me forever," he whispered.

Wu Que slowly stepped off the bed. The air in the room was fresh and pleasant, prompting him to take a deep, revitalizing breath. He walked over to a full-length mirror to examine himself. The youth in the reflection was naked, save for the bright-eyed jade pendant hanging around his neck. His refined features held a hint of heroism and resilience, and his muscles were taut and well-defined. Sunlight streamed in through the door frame, tracing the lines of his body with striking clarity. His gaze shifted, unruly hair falling over his brow and eyes, making him look like a leopard sprinting through the dusk. The wounds on his body had healed completely, and with them, the chaos in his mind had dissipated.

Wu Que lifted his head and stretched; his bones popped and creaked as his muscles contracted and shivered. "I’m alive," he murmured.

His black clothes had been washed and hung in the room, bathed in the warmth of the sunlight. Wu Que took them down and dressed; the fabric was warm against his skin. His eyes wandered as he recalled the words of the mysterious man: "If you successfully complete your first dream-entry mission, you will be transported to a place called the Dream-Entry Space, where my trusted subordinates reside. Tell them the information about your mother, and they will handle it."

He must be in the Dream-Entry Space now. With this thought, Wu Que pulled up the reward panel from the "Carnal Desire" dream.

1. Ancient Dragon Lightning Strike: Summons a large-scale golden lightning strike around the Dream-Mender, dealing incineration and paralysis damage. The power is immense, the range is wide, and the skill’s intensity is linked to the Dream-Mender's Faith Value. Can be used once every five hours.
2. 50 Random Attribute Points.
3. Assassin Bloodline: A bloodline focused on assassination techniques, allowing the user to conceal their aura, move as fast as the wind, and kill with a single strike. (Note: Once a bloodline is chosen, future rewards in the dream will lean toward the traits of that bloodline.)

"This is a difficult choice..." Wu Que bit his lip, calculating. 50 attribute points would be a massive boost regardless of where they were allocated. The bloodline was even more enticing; he had already witnessed the power of his master’s Gale Bloodline. In the perilous dream world, an assassin’s bloodline offered both offense and defense, making it highly versatile.

Both options were tempting, yet Wu Que’s eyes kept returning to the Ancient Dragon Lightning Strike. In his previous dream, he had suffered greatly from a lack of area-of-effect damage. The high damage, wide range, short cooldown, and synergy with the Combat Brand made it incredibly appealing to Wu Que, who was currently only skilled in solo combat.

"This is the one!" Without further hesitation, he clicked the confirm button on the first panel. As the screen vanished, a circle of golden lightning swirled around him. With a tingling sensation of pleasure, the electricity surged into his body.

"I suppose this counts as my first magical skill," he thought. Feeling the surging power within, he stretched his limbs again and looked toward the sunlit door. "Time to go outside and see."

He hesitated, then unstrapped the corrosive black blade from his back and carefully placed it on the bedside table. "It wouldn't do to hurt anyone."

Just as he turned to leave, the blade, as if annoyed at being left behind, let out a low hum.

"Do you want to see the outside, too?" Another hum. "Alright then, let's go together. To be honest, I feel like something is missing when you aren't on my back."

Wu Que strapped the blade on, pushed open the door, and stepped into a small courtyard. Hanging on the gate was a banner with crooked, messy text written in black marker: *Welcome to the Dream-Entry Space.* Below the uneven writing was a sharp-edged red heart, and in the bottom right corner, a signature: *97th Dream-Entry Squad.*

"So scrawled... it looks just like Master's handwriting." A warm current flooded Wu Que’s heart. "These clothes dried so well, they're so warm."

He walked a few dozen paces, and the view suddenly opened up.

In Wu Que's mind, the Dream-Entry Space should have been a cyberpunk metropolis, filled with humming drones in the sky, sophisticated architecture, and people augmented with futuristic technology. Instead, what met his eyes were rows of cramped, dilapidated houses flanking a pedestrian street where modest vendors set up stalls, calling out to passersby with gusto.

Seeing this mundane scene, three black lines appeared on Wu Que’s forehead. "This is so uncool!"

Just as he stood there speechless, the voice of a steamed bun shop owner reached his ears: "Come get your buns! Fresh, soft, white-flour buns!"

Wu Que felt his empty stomach; it seemed the last thing he had eaten was leftover pig-slop. "Looks like I’ll have to get some buns."

He entered the shop, found a clean table, and ordered a basket of soup dumplings and a bowl of hot and sour soup. While waiting, he scanned the shop. The billowing steam from the bamboo baskets, the simple wooden tables and chairs, and the white walls plastered with 90s celebrity posters reminded him of the place his mother used to take him and his siblings. Thinking of his mother and sister, a pang of sadness tugged at his heart. "Mom, just wait for me."

As he lost himself in memories, the steaming dumplings were served. At the same time, a figure at a nearby table caught his attention.

Sitting at a table near the door was a baby-faced youth, shoveling dumplings into his mouth. Despite his face, his frame was incredibly broad—he occupied the entire table by himself—and his physique was so striking one might suspect he had been a runway model in his former life. He ate with such genuine delight, turning ordinary white buns into the taste of a gourmet feast. His table manners were standard enough—Wu Que himself ate quickly when famished—but the youth’s demeanor was strangely lecherous. He hunched over, half his backside hanging off the stool, his flip-flopped feet pressed hard against the ground, toes tensed. Even more jarring was the fact that despite his fair, clean complexion, he wore a sinister, creepy smile, his eyes darting around like a thief.

"Is he planning to dine and dash? Isn't that a bit too obvious?" Wu Que thought as he took a bite of a dumpling.

As he chewed, he suddenly froze, realizing something. "Wait... I don't seem to have any money either."