A City Without Dreams

The cook known as Zi'an untied his headscarf, revealing a slightly weary face, and nodded.

"Manager, thank you for taking me in these past three years, but I cannot cook anymore."

Song Zi'an gave a bitter smile, looking at his slightly trembling hands.

"My hands can hardly hold a ladle steady, and... I have a reason why I must go to the provincial capital."

"I need to find that answer."

The innkeeper slapped his thigh and said anxiously, "How can you be so stubborn, child? You know how chaotic it is outside right now."

"And look at the sky!" The innkeeper pointed out the window. "It's about to get dark. If you leave now, you're just sending yourself to your death!"

"If you run into the Yinsi Guards patrolling the night, you won't even have a whole corpse left."

Song Zi'an looked calm as he straightened his collar.

"Do not worry, Manager. I, Song Zi'an, have never done anything against my conscience. I walk straight and act right. I have only dedicated myself to the culinary Dao and helping my diners."

"The Yinsi Guards catch evil spirits and punish sinners; they shouldn't make things difficult for a mere cook."

"You... you, you've really read yourself silly with those cookbooks. No one acts like a cook the way you do." The innkeeper stamped his feet in frustration.

As they were speaking, the originally bright lobby suddenly plunged into pitch-black darkness.

It wasn't the usual gradual darkening process. It was as if someone had directly blown out the lamp of heaven and earth.

With a snap, the entire world went dark in an instant.

On the street outside the window, the few figures that had been hurrying along vanished without a trace in an instant, as if swallowed by the darkness.

Wugou was quite surprised. "This darkness is... a bit unreasonable."

Chen Zhou also felt it was strange. Could there be a unique cycle of day and night within the provincial capital's territory?

The innkeeper's face turned pale instantly. He stopped trying to persuade Zi'an and grabbed his wrist.

"Listen to your uncle's advice. If you really want to leave, wait until tomorrow morning. Tonight, just focus on staying alive."

Song Zi'an looked at the night outside, so thick it felt inseparable, and hesitated for a moment. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"Fine. Then I shall trouble the Manager for one more night."

Though he believed his conscience was clear and he had no reason to fear a ghost's knock, he accepted the innkeeper's kindness for just one night.

'Tock, tock, tock.'

Just as Song Zi'an was thinking this, a soft, slow knocking sound rang out.

In this deathly silent night, the knocking sounded like a thunderclap.

The innkeeper and Song Zi'an's expressions changed at the same time. They looked at each other, seeing the solemnity in each other's eyes.

In the next second, their movements were perfectly synchronized.

The innkeeper dove directly under the counter, rolled his eyes, and lay stiffly on the ground. His breathing stopped instantly, and even his heartbeat was suppressed to the absolute limit.

Song Zi'an didn't hesitate either. He rolled on the spot and lay by the corner of a table, closing his eyes to play dead.

Even the waiter who had been wiping the tables had already sprawled in a corner, motionless from the moment the darkness fell.

Chen Zhou raised an eyebrow. 'Lying flat already? They seem very experienced.'

The lobby of the inn was deathly silent; only the sound of the knocking continued to echo.

'Tock, tock, tock.'

It was unhurried, like a very polite visit.

Inside the ghost domain, Wugou tugged at Chen Zhou's sleeve and whispered.

"This innkeeper's technique for playing dead is pretty good. Turtle Breathing? His heart has almost stopped. He has some skill."

"They aren't ordinary mortals, after all. Stop joking around." Chen Zhou made a silencing gesture and calmly watched the door.

He could feel that something was outside, yet it also seemed completely empty.

No death qi, no spiritual qi, and not even the flow of air had changed.

'Squeak—'

The door bolt slid up on its own, and the tightly closed doors slowly opened inward. A cold wind carrying a few drops of red rain blew in.

Ordinary perception couldn't detect anything, so Chen Zhou immediately activated his Law-Evaluating Eye.

The world in his eyes turned into an intertwining of black, white, gold, and red lines.

This time, he saw it.

A blurry, humanoid silhouette of light stepped over the threshold.

The thing had no physical form; it was like a mass of crushed light.

The left side of the figure's body shimmered with brilliant golden light—pure merit. The right side, however, was a karma-fire red lotus, burning with dense sin.

Chen Zhou's brow furrowed. 'Is this what they call the Yinsi Guards? Merit and karma-fire existing together?'

Wugou was also startled. "Can such a strange thing really exist?"

After the silhouette entered the room, it floated around the lobby, failing to notice Chen Zhou and his group hidden within the ghost domain.

It first floated over to the waiter and seemed to lean down to sniff him.

The waiter was currently completely rigid, even his pores were closed tight.

The light shadow lingered for a moment. Seemingly deciding this was just an inconsequential object, it turned and floated toward the counter.

It circled the innkeeper's body twice, but the innkeeper's eyelids didn't even twitch.

Finally, it arrived in front of Song Zi'an.

The karma-fire on its body suddenly flickered, and the golden light followed suit.

It seemed very interested in Song Zi'an, or rather, very interested in the sliver of merit on Song Zi'an's body.

It slowly reached out a hand made of light mist and pressed it hollowly over Song Zi'an's head.

Song Zi'an showed no reaction.

The figure seemed to confirm something. It turned and floated toward the door. As it passed the threshold, the door automatically 'squeaked' shut, and the bolt dropped back into place.

Everything returned to peace, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Hmph-gee~"

The Dream Demon pig, which Chen Zhou had been holding in his arms, suddenly nudged Chen Zhou's chest and let out a pitiful cry.

It rubbed its shriveled little belly, indicating it was hungry.

The night was supposed to be the Dream Demon's most active time.

Everything should be asleep, and every soul should be entering dreams.

Whether they were pleasant dreams or nightmares, the dissipating dream energy was its food.

The little pig usually had an all-you-can-eat buffet every night; Chen Zhou had never seen it go hungry.

"Hungry?" Chen Zhou was startled. "Hasn't the whole city gone to sleep? Is there no dream to eat?"

The little pig shook its head, its two large ears drooping.

It indicated that the surroundings were deathly silent; there wasn't even a scrap of a dream.

"A city without dreams?" Chen Zhou's expression turned cold.

Wugou also stopped his joking. "That's not right. Dreams are the projection of a living being's subconscious. As long as there is a soul and as long as they sleep, it's impossible not to dream, unless..."

"Unless the soul is being suppressed, or it has been harvested." Chen Zhou finished the sentence.

"Come on, let's go see."

Chen Zhou patted the little pig's head.

The pig immediately perked up and spat out a cloud of fiendish qi.

As the fiendish qi wove together, the surrounding scenery began to distort, and the colors were stripped away.

In the next instant, they entered the dream interlayer.

The interlayer, which was usually vibrant and floating with countless dream bubbles, was currently a desolate expanse of grey.

It was like a dried-up riverbed, with only a few scattered, dim points of light flickering in the distance—extremely faint remnants of consciousness.

"It really is clean," Chen Zhou said.

"Hmph-gee!" The little pig was very angry; someone was stealing its food.

It increased its output of fiendish qi, and the Dream-Weaving Shuttle spun rapidly, carrying Chen Zhou and Wugou as it forced its way through this desolate layer, diving deeper.

"To the deep dream."