Chapter Seventy-Four: Blurring the Line Between Reality and Dreams

After we sat down, Chu Mengxi and I settled into our seats. Beyond the ancient city walls, the world remained shrouded in gloom. Puzzled, I asked, “Master, didn’t we have bright sunshine yesterday morning? Why is it raining again today?”

Master paused, the ladle of soup suspended in midair, and looked at me in confusion. “It started raining yesterday afternoon, didn’t you notice? You rascal, have you forgotten already?”

With that, Master set the bowl down on the table and reached out to feel my forehead. I froze, and then heard him mutter, “No fever!”

“Uncle Tan, Lin Xuan, let’s eat. You’ve both been hungry almost all day,” Chu Mengxi said gently.

We dropped the trivial conversation, grabbed our chopsticks, and began to devour the food ravenously. Chu Mengxi glanced at us and reminded, “Uncle Tan, Lin Xuan, slow down. No one’s stealing your food—don’t choke.”

I raised my head and grinned at Chu Mengxi. Master gave me a light smack on the head and kept eating. Rubbing the back of my head, I shot Master a look of mock annoyance, but he ignored me. The food in our bowls dwindled, and most of the dishes and the large bowl of rice were soon finished off by the two of us.

I let out a burp and stood up to ladle some soup. Turning to Master, I said, “Master, I had a dream last night.”

Master, still shoveling food into his mouth, seemed too hungry to care about his image. Without looking up, he asked, “What kind of dream?”

With half a bowl of soup in hand, I sat back down and recounted, “I dreamed two children were tricked by an old witch. You took me to find her, and we ended up in a terrifying house. Then we went to a village, and—most importantly—I saw a giant spider and a huge shadowy figure.”

I gestured to show the size. “The spider kept chasing me. I was scared out of my wits. The shadowy figure was towering, and you even fought him. I dreamed you got hurt.”

I took a sip of soup. Master stopped, set down his bowl, and stared at me with a puzzled look. He reached out again; I instinctively dodged, asking, “Master, what are you doing?”

“Kid, is something wrong with your head? You’ve forgotten everything that happened last night and this morning?”

Master frowned, studying me closely. Now it was my turn to be confused. I stared back and asked, “What happened?”

But as soon as I spoke, memories flooded back. In disbelief, I said, “Are you talking about what I dreamed? Could that really have happened?”

Master nodded, and with his confirmation, I was stunned. I replayed the dream in my mind. Was it all real? Did it truly happen?

I looked at Master again. He sighed and said, “It’s not your fault. You forced the black and white twin fish to merge with the Dao pattern for too long, and your current strength can’t support the result of their fusion. That’s why you fell unconscious. When you woke, you couldn’t recall what happened, but fragments replayed in your dreams.”

The image of that enormous shadow surfaced again. If I remembered correctly, its name was Li Guang. I shook my head, frowning. Master pressed my temples, channeling a stream of spiritual energy inside. “Don’t strain yourself,” he said, “It’ll just give you a headache. It’s all over now. How do you feel?”

I shook my head again. The pain that had flared up just now vanished. I pressed my temples and replied, “I’m alright, feeling pretty good.”

Master nodded and extended his hand to me. I hesitated, then placed mine in his palm, but he slapped it aside with a sharp crack. Even more bewildered, I turned to him and asked, “Master, what are you doing now?”

“You fool, I meant for you to hand over that box in your pocket.”

I patted my clothes and indeed found something hard. Pulling it out, I examined it in my palm. I almost opened it, but something in my subconscious urged me to stop, as if something terrifying lay inside.

Master took the box, opened it, and—heavens above! If I’d opened it myself, I’d have leapt out of my skin. Inside the small black box lay a patterned spider with eight long legs. I recoiled in fright, and Chu Mengxi let out a startled cry as well.

Master looked at us and said, “What’s there to be afraid of? It doesn’t bite.”

He chuckled to himself. “The trip to the ancient Miao village wasn’t wasted. Took a small injury, but with this thing, it was worth it.”

He closed the box and fastened the clasp. Only then did I dare sit down again. “Master, when did you pick up this habit of raising spiders? Don’t you know I’m terrified of…”

I glanced at Chu Mengxi. She caught the hint and stifled a laugh. Embarrassed, I turned my head, only to hear Master ask, “Terrified of what?”

I shot him a look. He laughed heartily. “Alright, are you both finished? There’s another show to come.”

Chu Mengxi and I nodded. Master stood up and we went upstairs. After closing the door, I asked, “Master, what show?”

He smiled without answering. His eyes sparkled with golden light, and the scene around us shifted. We stood in a picturesque place. Ahead was a person, heavily wrapped with a mask and a hat, carrying a basket and sneaking along the road.

After a while, this figure arrived before a tall, well-tended grave. Judging by the offerings, someone had recently come to pay respects. The person set the basket down, glanced around warily, and only after confirming there was no one else, removed the hat and mask.

I looked closely—he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t recall his name. I turned to Master, who signaled for me to keep watching.

The man spoke: “Brother Tianyu, I’m Lu Tangjun. It’s been a long time since I visited you. That’s my fault, so today I’ve come to pay my respects.”

He took out wine and offerings from the basket, lit three sticks of incense and some yellow paper, and after burning them, looked around once more before kneeling down. I was surprised to hear him say, “Brother Tianyu, please don’t hold any grudges about the past. I beg your forgiveness and offer these kowtows to atone for what I’ve done.”

He began to kowtow—one, two, three…and didn’t stop. Master smiled faintly. Several minutes passed, and finally the man straightened up, a little dizzy, swaying slightly. I counted—he had bowed a hundred times! What kind of respect could make a man do that?

Master sighed softly. “Tianyu, the last heir of the corpse-driving lineage, I will take care of your legacy. Forgive me for not visiting sooner. I bow to you in apology.”

With that, Master gave a solemn bow. When he straightened, the man kneeling at the grave suddenly tensed, glancing around in panic, whispering, “Who’s there? Come out! I saw you!”

But Master just smiled, waved his hand, and the scene shifted—we were back in the guesthouse. I sat beside him, still puzzled. “Master, who was that? Why did he bow a hundred times, and why did you bow too?”

Chu Mengxi also looked at Master, waiting for an answer. He gazed out at the heavy, overcast sky and sighed. “The man in the grave was an old friend of mine. Even Chu Mengxi’s father knew him.”

I was surprised. Even her father? But Chu Mengxi seemed more confused than I. “Uncle Tan, my father knew him too?”

Master nodded. Chu Mengxi pressed on, “What was his name?”

“The last of the corpse-driving lineage—Sun Tianyu.”

Master rested his chin on his hand. Chu Mengxi nodded, and I asked, “Then why did that man bow a hundred times, and why did you bow as well?”

Master glanced at me. “Because that’s what we owe him.”

I nodded, starting to understand. Master let out a long breath and stood up. “Enough. There’s still something important to do.”

“What is it, Master?” I asked, sitting on the stool and watching him.

He walked to the window and glanced at the renewed rain outside. “To save a life.”

With that, he left the room. I sat dazed for a moment until Chu Mengxi nudged me. “Lin Xuan, are you out of your mind?”

I snapped out of it. “No, I’m fine.”

She was about to say more when Master called from outside, smiling faintly. “Boy, are you coming or would you rather rest at home?”

I hesitated for a moment, then stood up to follow him. Master looked at Chu Mengxi. “What about you?”

She grinned. “Uncle Tan, I think I’ll stay. I can’t really help anyway, so I’ll wait here for you both.”

Master smiled and nodded, then led me out of the guesthouse. We opened our umbrellas and walked through the ancient city. The route Master chose led toward the Zhang family’s home. Suddenly I remembered—the two children of the Zhang family were cursed. Master had promised to save them. So that was who he was going to help.