Mona Ouyang gripped my throat with one hand, hovering above me. Her gaze was icy, and the restlessness that had just flickered across her face vanished, replaced by a calm and collected expression as she stared down at me.
I knew very well that I was just trying to provoke him, to force him to bring out Uncle Mo, but it seems I failed.
“Do as you please, Ethan Zhang. Hand over the Nightmare Stone—it's only a matter of time. I don't have to rush. But you, you're different. Heh... In your future, what awaits you is endless hell.”
Mona Ouyang said this and then released her grip. Her figure gradually faded away as I plummeted downward.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of blackness. I immediately reached out and grabbed the extending Deathbane Aura, entered my Core Dream, and returned to the apartment building. Sure enough, the lantern was already gone.
I quickly flew to the top of the small pavilion and waited quietly for Mona Ouyang's next attack. However, as the minutes ticked by, she did not strike again.
Everything in the apartment building seemed to have come to a standstill. Thinking about it, it was clear I was still in a dream. Looking closely at the cherry blossom tree—normally, petals would occasionally fall, swirling through the air, but now, everything was frozen in place.
Now that I think about it, in that dream—the first dream—I was on a rainy street at night, feeling that strange gaze. Twice, two different feelings.
Now I jolted upright, thinking it over carefully. The first feeling I sensed must have come from that murderer, but the second time, when I was running down the street, it felt like someone was watching me.
That eerily seductive Vivian Ouyang spoke about the dream's residents. I cared a lot about that, but before she could finish, Mona Ouyang subdued her and took her away.
As for Vivian Ouyang, when I get back, I need to find some time to bring both Rachel Lan and Vivian Ouyang together and tell them the truth. They both have the right to know.
Judging from the conversation just now between Vivian Ouyang and Mona Ouyang, the three of them are one and the same. If any one of them is harmed, the other two will also suffer. This makes things tricky—if I want to deal with Mona Ouyang, Vivian Ouyang will definitely die too.
The more I thought about it, the more muddled my mind became. I climbed down from the top of the pavilion and sat beside the stone table, pondering what John Chou had told me about controlling dreams. I still had no idea how to do it.
"Sigh, I'm really not cut out for thinking about such complicated things. If only Hugh Thompson were here."
I couldn't help but mutter to myself, lying comfortably on the table. If I could sleep, I'd love to take a good nap right now. But then I remembered—I'm only in this dream because I'm already asleep.
"What should I do?"
I pressed my face against the stone table. Right now, I had no idea how to control the dream. Mona Ouyang wasn't attacking me anymore, and I could just stay in my Core Dream. Even if I didn't leave, it wouldn't matter. But the real problem was that I couldn't wake up.
Even if I pinched my thigh or cheek hard, I could feel it, but I still couldn't wake up. I wasn't hungry, nor did I feel like sleeping. This place was stifling.
"Wait..." Suddenly, something dawned on me. I stood up and looked around, feeling torn and almost frantic.
How did the lantern get in here? I realized earlier that this was the key point. If the lantern could enter, it meant the dream spaces were connected. If it could enter my dream, then I could enter someone else's—like Hugh Thompson's. I could go into his dream and ask him.
Suddenly, I started laughing. Yes, the dream spaces must be connected. Think about Ironmask—every time, I saw him in different dreams. He must have been Dream Sending to me, so I could meet and communicate with him in his dream realm.
But as for how to actually Dream Send to someone else—when I got to this point, I was stumped. I had the idea, but it was useless without knowing how to do it.
I lay under a cherry blossom tree, staring blankly at the sky. A long time passed—maybe an hour or two—and I still hadn't figured out what to do.
But I couldn't just stay here forever. If I left, I still didn't know how to control the dream. I had two Dreamlight Orbs left—I couldn't be careless.
I pushed aside the distracting thoughts and tried to think calmly, recalling everything from the past. It all started with Rachel Lan's memories—seeing how the dead would Dream Send to the living.
"That's it!" I jumped up the moment the thought hit me. Can't I turn myself into a ghost? If I transform fully into a ghost, maybe it will work—after all, ghosts Dream Send to people all the time.
I began, bit by bit, to transform my body into that of a ghost using my willpower. Black mist seeped from all around me—only my chest was left. That's where the wine seal was placed, so I had to be careful.
Suddenly, just as the transformation was going smoothly, my mind buzzed and a sharp pain radiated from my chest. I didn't dare be careless and continued transforming myself, bit by bit.
I cried out as a final wave of pain tore through me. It was done—I had become a ghost. With a whoosh, I vanished from where I was, and when I reappeared, I was standing before a violet ring of light.
Even though I'd turned into a ghost, I still didn't know how to Dream Send. All I could do was enter this place in ghost form and try it step by step.
After passing through the violet ring of light, I arrived in that space. Strangely, as soon as I entered, I felt my body regain its weight and began to sink. I stared in surprise at my hands—sure enough, I couldn't release even a trace of Deathbane Aura.
I looked around anxiously. When I saw my Core Dream, I quickly reached out—a strand of Deathbane Aura drifted past. I grabbed it and returned to my Core Dream. Once inside, I realized I was still a ghost—nothing had changed.
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Helpless, I sighed, folded my arms, and sat cross-legged on the ground, floating in midair, spinning slowly as the apartment building rotated before my eyes.
Suddenly, my Specter Web sensed something glittering—just above the apartment building. It was something about the size of a fist. I stopped spinning, hovered in the air, and drifted toward the building.
Guided by my Specter Web, I arrived at my room, opened the door, and swept inside. There, I saw a stone, the same coffee color as my family's table. I stared in surprise—it was the Nightmare Stone.
Step by step, I approached the Nightmare Stone and reached out to pick it up. Strangely, although it was the same color as my table, the Nightmare Stone turned black in my hand. It felt completely unreal, and just then, my consciousness began to blur.
I quickly let go of the Nightmare Stone. It fell to the floor and immediately changed to match the color of the ground.
I quietly watched the Nightmare Stone. Just now, for a moment when I almost lost consciousness, my mind was filled with fragments, like scenes from a movie, each with a person in it.
I remembered what John Chou had told me—I tend to learn more from experience than from theory.
Although I still didn't fully understand, I felt it could work—Dream Sending to Hugh Thompson. It might also work with others, but Hugh Thompson was clearly the simplest and most direct choice.
Many times, all it took was a word from Hugh Thompson for me to understand. I picked up the Nightmare Stone again, sat on the bed, and focused. Gradually, my consciousness began to blur, and I sank into a pitch-black space.
All around me were little screens, each showing a familiar face. But the colors were different. I soon found Hugh Thompson—his face was frozen, and the screen around him was completely black. I drifted toward it.
A gust of wind swept by, and suddenly I was standing on the edge of a rooftop, nearly falling off. Luckily, I could use my ghostly powers now—I floated up, and below me was a bustling street market.
"Stop!"
A voice called up from below—it was Hugh Thompson, dressed in a police uniform, looking younger and without glasses. He was running hard, chasing after a fleeing suspect.
I floated over. Sure enough, it was a dream. From the panicked bystanders—whose faces were blurry—I could tell.
Hugh Thompson was chasing the fleeing man, who looked like a thief clutching a woman's handbag. Suddenly, I felt someone watching me from behind. My Specter Web sensed it too—I immediately turned around.
On the rooftop where I had entered, there was a mass of darkness. I quickly floated over, but found nothing—the dark mass had vanished.
I was puzzled but didn't dwell on it. I turned and floated toward Hugh Thompson, gradually catching up as he pinned the thief to the ground.
The scene shifted—I was now in a duplex apartment. Hugh Thompson, wrapped in a bathrobe, had just come out of the bathroom. A woman was clearing dishes—his wife. I had seen her before, though she once called Hugh Thompson crazy.
However, the two of them seemed unusually silent. Hugh Thompson sat on the living room sofa, watching TV, while his wife, after tidying up, silently walked into the bathroom.
"Hugh, how long will it take for you to finally accept reality?"
Suddenly, Hugh Thompson's wife spoke in a mournful voice. I turned and saw her standing at the bathroom door, tears streaming down her face.