This time out at sea, Yang Zicang had gathered a mountain of spiritual artifacts and war tools.
They filled two dark red ships to the brim.
–Hey, why did you drag me here? My time’s tight—I don’t have the luxury to lounge around like you.–
Morris, dressed half like a savage and half wrapped in cloth, stood akimbo with reluctance. He was in the critical moment of a breakthrough, and besides, he hadn’t seen a single Chronos in centuries.
–This time, you have to come along whether you like it or not.–
–Why?–
–Remember the second experiment I mentioned?– Yang Zicang said.
–What?– Morris was a bit bewildered. What experiment?
He quickly racked his brain.
One good thing here was that, despite the vast span of time, it felt as if everything had just happened. After pondering a moment, Morris actually recalled the days over thirty years ago when he first met Yang Zicang.
–Ah, you mean the bug that watched the snow back then? What the hell are you up to, dragging out an experiment for decades?–
–I thought it would take a thousand years.–
Morris’ heart quivered.
So this was the power of a complete Postage Emblem—this guy beside him…
–What exactly are you trying to do?–
–You’ll find out soon enough.–
Two ships sailing on the sea came to rest in a stretch of water with a slightly different hue. Bubbles occasionally rose from below.
–Let’s begin, lads!–
At Yang Zicang’s command, the sailors heaved and grunted as they tossed crate after crate of spirit artifacts and weapons into the sea.
–Follow me down.– Yang Zicang shed his coat and plunged into the water with a splash.
Morris winced, his heart aching, but steeled himself and jumped in after him.
Gradually, in the pitch-black depths of the sea, Yang Zicang and the others saw a faint crimson glow—molten lava spewing from the submarine volcanic crater ahead.
{A volcano? Wow, it’s beautiful. What exactly is your experiment about?}
[I want to breathe new life into the dead Nightmares.]
{What?!}
Morris, his features distorted by the water pressure, felt this man had lost his mind.
{We barely killed those things, and you want to revive them? Don’t tell me you’re the villain from a movie.}
[Stop the nonsense, just help me inject them with Chronos principal. Come on.]
The sea roared. Countless shimmering, dark-hued spirit artifacts and weapons shot forth like a school of fish, straight towards the towering metal pillar at the center of the molten crater.
Atop it rested a faintly glowing red stone, like a piece of red amber. The spirit weapon realm tools clung tightly to it, rapidly softening as if their life essence were being drained by something formless within.
[The lingering resentment of the Spirit Weapon Realm Tools is devouring the Chronos that belongs to me.]
This is the crystallized essence of the Flame Nightmare—the inevitability of rekindling from dying embers, the intrinsic nature of fire!
As time ticked by, Morris, who had been busied deep within the magma, finally found a chance to catch his breath.
{What exactly are you trying to do?}
Yang Zicang fell silent for a moment, then said:
[Do you remember those two cicadas that once rested in my palm?]
{What?}
–They stayed obediently in my hands for a long time. Perhaps because of my spiritual strength, I could sense that, as I extended their lives with my own, they saw me as… family.–
Family!
A flash of lightning suddenly streaked through Morris’s mind, who was shrouded in doubts.
–Y—you, you want to tame a Demon Haunt?–
–I’m not just reviving a Demon Haunt—I’m reviving one that is loyal to me!–
–You really are a terrifying person.–
……
Days passed one after another, and Yang Zicang sat cross-legged, drifting above this molten lava region.
This day, he suddenly sensed a faint gaze upon him.
He snapped his eyes open.
It seems there was a tiny, pure gaze watching him without the slightest restraint.
[The remnant will of a spiritual weapon war vessel gave birth to a blank divine consciousness, and it wants to eat something.]
Yang Zicang felt a flicker of vitality from that crystal.
Sparks reignite from dying embers—sure enough, it was an ‘evil nightmare’ born of flame. He thought with excitement. After the fire-evil nightmare swallowed enough kin and lifespan, it had truly begun its third revival!
But this third revival… how difficult it was. How many years had already passed?
It wants to eat something… Yang Zicang mused over the thought that had arisen in his heart.
Having dealt with evil nightmares for millennia, he knew well that the first and second beings the nightmare devoured determined its level of intelligence.
Now reborn, logically speaking, devouring a human would do it the most good—but even in his dreams, Yang Zicang felt he could hardly bring himself to do such a thing.
On the dark seabed illuminated by the crimson glow of magma, inside a semi-transparent rock resembling an egg, a small wolf-headed centipede with flames lay curled up. Beside its mouth were a few milky-white dots, like milk teeth. With the magma’s wavering shadows, it was impossible to tell if there were six or four.
[It holds absolute trust in me.]
[It asks me if it can devour the –surplus kin.-****]
Surplus? The moment Yang Zicang stepped before the pale white stone and gazed at the vaguely serpentine, centipede-like segmented shadow within the crystalline rock, the white, translucent monster suddenly burst forth from the stone egg.
Not a ripple stirred the seawater, yet Yang Zicang felt as though a typhoon had erupted in his spiritual world.
It was a purely spiritual entity!
It abruptly towered upward.
Nianlong… In that instant, a single name flashed through Yang Zicang’s mind.
Rumble!
The monster suddenly loomed as tall as a three-story building, its massive, maw curved as it lunged downward to swallow Yang Zicang whole. Beneath the magma-lit seabed, the water itself churned, and the submerged town began unraveling in chaotic currents.
Far away, Morris, cultivating under the crushing pressure of the deep sea, sensed a disturbance.
He rushed over in haste, only to witness in terror a phantom-like monster opening its maw to engulf the slender, elongated young man floating atop the magma.
{Spiritual energy… No, is it a legendary psychic entity?!}
A surge of panic gripped Morris.
{_-Run, what are you doing! Psychic power can harm you!–_} he shouted.
Yang Zicang ignored Morris’s calls. Earlier, he had indeed wanted to flee, but in the instant before making a move, he forcefully restrained his instinctive reaction.
The other party placed absolute trust in him.
The wolf-like maw clamped down on his head in one swift bite.
Morris stared in shock from afar. That guy—the one with the Quad—had been so easily…
Gulp.
The monster’s throat rumbled as its head suddenly jerked upward, with a twisted phantom of an image clenched in its mouth.
This phantom came from Yang Zicang’s head.
The centipede pulled it upward with all its might, but the phantom stuck to his skull like superglue. At that moment, Yang Zicang was in agony, feeling as though his spirit was being violently yanked out.
Yet Yang Zicang also sensed that something lurking vaguely within his head was the true target of this resurrected nightmare.
Bang!
The centipede nightmare’s mental being tossed its head, violently ripping the wrenching –thing– from within Yang Zicang’s skull, then flung it hard! The seawater boomed with a muffled roar.
A massive subway station platform unfurled swiftly, appearing here as if plucked from a cross-cutting scene from a dream.
–The psychic subway station?–
……
Throughout the platform, countless phantom afterimages of Yang Zicang wandered.
Some were merely floating heads, others only limbs, there was a younger Yang Zicang, and versions of him wearing various clothes, carrying schoolbags or basketballs.
Yet amidst these figures, there was another silhouette of a different man!
[My mind is on the verge of collapse.]
As if he had just been through death, Yang Zicang clutched his head in agony.
{Are you alright?}
Morris appeared beside Yang Zicang, watching him and the surrounding area with palpable tension.
Suddenly, his eyes quivered. On a public iron bench in the distance sat a figure draped in a silver-white uniform.
[I, I’m fine…]
Yang Zicang’s chaotic will began to recover slightly.
{You scared me to death. Just now, I saw your head fade a lot. This monster…}
The centipede did not attack again. Instead, it nibbled gaps into this vast telekinetic subway platform, one bite at a time, like a cow chewing leaves.
[It’s not trying to hurt me.]
Holding his head with his left hand, Yang Zicang raised his right to stop Morris, who was about to amplify Chronos. He lifted his head with great effort. The station was flooded with versions of himself—these were all fragments of his past memories.
Then, his gaze settled on the figure in silver uniform lurking in the distance.
That man didn’t seem to possess any life energy; he was merely a phantom.
{That guy! When did you get involved with the subway-riding wanderer? Are you from the same city as him?}
[I’ve never seen this person. What, you know him?]
{Heh, Mr. ZiCang. Very few people from your city can enter Hubville, and that man is one of them. But he didn’t come through the proper channels.}
Morris cautiously took a few steps toward that spot, then tossed a piece of seaweed at him. It struck the man and nearly embedded itself in his form.
[If not through proper channels, then how?]
{Illegal means! He relies on his nightmare ability. This man can traverse dreams and manifest in reality.}
Yang Zicang’s pupils suddenly constricted.
It’s Matt Chao! He also acquired his power at the subway station… No, his Banshee Demon was born there.
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