Chapter 439: 402. Chapter 401: The Hound in the Dream

402. Chapter 401: The Hound in the Dream

When in doubt, run first.

This is a basic requirement for any qualified cultivator: regardless of the opponent's strength or whether you lose face, your top priority is to preserve your life. As long as you're alive, everything can be restarted; if you die chasing fleeting pride, how foolish is that?

Cultivators from the Xuan Immortal World have a completely different temperament from martial artists of the Four Seas and Eight Continents.

This may be the best illustration of how land shapes its people.

"What the hell is that Yang Wei? He took my Purple Lightning Sword and Purple Celestial Talisman head-on without a scratch. Strange—extremely strange. His cultivation base is clearly weak, and he has no defensive treasures. Logically, that shouldn't be possible. Abnormality implies evil—get out of here first."

Lord Meng Changfeng was still replaying the scene in his mind, utterly baffled.

But years of battle experience told him: when faced with something inexplicable, run.

The honor of being the top disciple of the Purple Celestial Sect? Let it go—it didn't matter.

His Purple Light Dash was astonishingly fast, like a streak of purple lightning flashing across the sky, vanishing into the horizon in an instant. With his magical power reserves, he had more than enough to return to the Xuan Immortal Continent before exhausting himself; and with this technique, even cultivators one realm above him couldn't stop him.

"I should be safe now. That man isn't strong—he can't even fly. If I want to leave, no one can stop me," Lord Meng Changfeng thought.

But soon—

he noticed something was wrong.

At this speed, he should have already left this world—but why did everything around him seem unchanged?

He suddenly snapped awake.

"Stop!"

Lord Meng Changfeng roared, forcibly cutting off his magical energy and ending the Purple Light Dash—only to be met with backlash. His chest tightened, and he spat out a mouthful of blood, his aura instantly withering.

Even so, he had to see what was happening around him.

"This isn't another world," Lord Meng Changfeng looked up at the sky.

The sky above was dark, devoid of light or stars, stretching endlessly into the distance—he felt as if trapped in an unknown space.

"Did I stumble into a formation's space? But how? With my strength, I can dash a hundred li in an instant. How could such a broken world have a cultivator set up a formation?"

"Purple Lightning Sword!"

Lord Meng Changfeng's face darkened. He raised his sword finger, trying to summon his top-grade magic treasure—the Purple Lightning Sword—to break the formation by force.

But soon—

he realized he could no longer sense the Purple Lightning Sword inside him. Not just that—he couldn't sense any of his other magic treasures. He felt as if stripped naked, deprived of all external tools.

"This isn't a formation—it's an illusion. I've been dragged into an illusion. When did I enter? When I fought that man? No, everything felt normal then—I could summon the Purple Lightning Sword at will. Was it earlier, when I first arrived in this city with Tianxu Zi and the others? No, there were no enemies then. The only possibility is when I used the Purple Light Dash to flee."

Lord Meng Changfeng forced himself to calm down and analyzed the situation.

Soon—

he realized his only opening was the moment after his full-power strike, when his spirit was unsettled and he instinctively turned to flee.

Just that one moment—and someone pulled him into an illusion?

What nonsense.

Who in their youth could possess such terrifying power?

"Enough. Use my Primordial Spirit to forcibly shatter this illusion. The longer I wait, the more danger my body outside faces." Lord Meng Changfeng took a deep breath, formed a hand seal, and tried to mobilize his Primordial Spirit to break free and regain clarity.

Yet his expression quickly froze.

his face froze.

He couldn't sense his Primordial Spirit either.

Was he reduced to a mere mortal inside this illusion?

The Young Master Meng Changfeng could not help but tremble inside; a sense of unease and dread was endlessly swelling within him. He looked again around him, carefully observing everything nearby.

Lord Meng Changfeng's heart trembled. Fear and dread swelled endlessly within him. He scanned his surroundings again, studying every detail.

He found himself on a country path, surrounded by abandoned fields—yet signs of cultivation remained. Nearby stood a small town. No—a village. The people of this strange world seemed relatively prosperous; their homes were all two or three stories tall.

But the village was utterly silent, no lights glowing—like an empty, lifeless ghost town.

"I must go investigate. Find a way to break the illusion—or I'll be trapped here forever."

Lord Meng Changfeng didn't hesitate. He moved at once, seeking survival in this illusion.

When he reached the village entrance, he suddenly saw Tianxu Zi and Beigong Fu lingering there, hesitating whether to enter—clearly, they too had been dragged into the illusion and couldn't escape.

Tianxu Zi was stunned. He had assumed the Young Master Meng Changfeng had simply been lucky, slipping away ahead of them, but he never expected that after entering this illusion, the three of them would still reunite.

Tianxu Zi was stunned. He'd assumed Lord Meng Changfeng had escaped first by luck—but now they'd all converged here in the illusion.

"It's that Yang Wei's doing. We're all trapped. Our consciousness remains—meaning our bodies outside are still alive. But this won't last. If we don't break the illusion soon, our real bodies will die." Lord Meng Changfeng spoke grimly.

"Then stop worrying. Enter the village, find the core. Maybe we can break the illusion." Beigong Fu said anxiously.

The three of them joined forces once more and entered the silent, deserted village, choosing not to split up but to stay together.

The three joined forces again and stormed into the silent, empty village. They chose not to split up—they stayed together.

After searching everywhere, they found nothing.

"The village is deserted. The only odd thing is this building." They stood before a two-story house.

Beside it sat a chair, upon which lay a newspaper—as if someone had once lingered here, leaving traces. But that was all.

"Outside the village, there's a building that looks like a private school. We haven't checked it yet. Should we go?" Beigong Fu asked.

Tianxu Zi was about to reply, but then he sensed something and sharply stepped back, his gaze fixed intently on the front door of the nearby house.

Tianxu Zi was about to answer when he sensed something. He leapt back instantly, eyes locked on the half-open door of the house.

The door was slightly ajar, darkness within—then, from the blackness, a pair of crimson eyes emerged, like a ferocious beast awakening.

Moments later, the door burst open. A jet-black hound, the size of a calf, stepped forward, baring its fangs and growling low.

"A dog?"

All three frowned.

Why was there a dog in this illusion?

Though fierce-looking, they were cultivators—what terrifying beasts hadn't they faced? A mere dog couldn't frighten them.

But—

they remembered: since entering this illusion, they'd lost their cultivation, even their Primordial Spirit. They were now mere mortals. Facing this hound as mortals? That might be difficult.

Realizing this—

Tianxu Zi, Beigong Fu, and Lord Meng Changfeng turned and ran simultaneously.

In the next instant, the hound roared and charged.

"Damn!" Tianxu Zi sprinted after Beigong Fu, then quickly overtook her.

He was old and weak—he couldn't outrun Lord Meng Changfeng or the hound—but he could outrun Beigong Fu.

Let the other guy die—it's an eternal truth.

"Tianxu Zi, you old bastard—"

Beigong Fu saw his intent and screamed curses.

The whole place was dark—Tianxu Zi could run anywhere. Why was he heading straight for her? Clearly, he was luring the hound toward her.

"Beigong Fu, save your breath. The hound's coming. I'll go ahead. May the Ancestors of the Tianhun Sect protect you." Tianxu Zi shouted without looking back.

Beigong Fu was furious and panicked. She opened her mouth to scream—then a shadow slammed into her, knocking her down.

The hound tore at her with savage ferocity.

Beigong Fu screamed, struggling desperately—but to no avail. Soon, she fell still.

After killing one, the hound didn't stop. It lifted its head, crimson eyes locking onto another direction, then charged forward, fangs dripping blood.

Soon after, Tianxu Zi, hiding in a house, was found.

"Good dog, you're full—don't eat me. I'm skin and bones, tasteless… Damn! You bit my junior disciple! Help! My belly's ripped open—my organs are spilling out! I'm done! Who owns this dog? No leash? I curse you to hell!"

Tianxu Zi's voice echoed from a corner of the village, his screams ringing endlessly—making Lord Meng Changfeng's scalp crawl.

Soon—

the screams stopped.

It meant Beigong Fu and Tianxu Zi were dead, torn apart by the hound.

Lord Meng Changfeng seized the chance and fled the empty village like a hunted animal.

He ran through the wilderness, gasping for breath.

"Without cultivation, even my strength is reduced to a mortal's. What kind of illusion is this? How do I break it?"

Exhausted, Lord Meng Changfeng collapsed on the ground. He realized: this world held no other life—only the hound, the size of a calf.

"Perhaps the hound is the source of the illusion. Kill it—and maybe I break free."

He suddenly understood. His spirit lifted.

He had no cultivation—but neither was the hound a powerful beast. It was just a mortal dog. With effort, he could kill it.

Thinking this—

Lord Meng Changfeng began preparing. He needed a weapon to fight the hound to the death.

Soon—

he found something: a wooden stick.

He quickly sharpened it into a short spear.

Armed, he no longer hid—he went to find the hound.

Soon—

man and hound met at the village entrance, locking eyes, brimming with lethal intent.

"Come."

Chang Feng roared, refused to retreat, and charged forward with his short spear.

No one would have imagined that a chief disciple of the Shenxiao Sect would one day fight a vicious dog at the village entrance.

The dog tore and bit; the spear stabbed wildly; blood sprayed everywhere—terribly brutal.

The two fought from the village's head to its tail.

When the wooden spear broke, Chang Feng used his fists, his teeth—anything—he fought like a man possessed, desperate for even a sliver of survival, unwilling to die senselessly in some unknown wasteland village, let alone within a hallucination.

And somehow, he succeeded.

Chang Feng truly killed the black dog; his body was drenched in blood, covered in wounds, and the bite marks on his neck still oozed blood.

"Now, this illusion should break," he gasped, exhausted nearly to collapse.

Is this what mortal combat truly is?

So arduous. So ugly.

Staring at his battered hands, he trembled all over.

But Chang Feng did not see the illusion shatter—he saw two identical black dogs, one on each side, strolling out from nearby alleyways.

This sight froze his face; then despair and terror surged from deep within, swiftly consuming his entire being.

"Why is this happening?" he screamed in helpless rage.

As his roar echoed, the two dogs lunged at once, knocking him to the ground and savagely tearing into him.

Chang Feng screamed in agony, struggling desperately—but it was useless.

One dog was already nearly impossible to defeat; two were unthinkable—and now he was wounded, broken, and utterly spent.

In despair and helplessness, Chang Feng fell still, torn apart alive by the two dogs.

No one in the outside world knew what had happened within the dream.

In reality.

Above the city of Tianchang.

In but a moment, the three fleeing figures suddenly lost consciousness and plummeted from midair; with the thud of their impact, they cratered the ground—but showed no sign of awakening, yet their life force remained strong, not a single wound visible.

Such a bizarre scene defied understanding.

"Done. Pity—my target wasn't you three, but it doesn't matter." Yang Wei slowly descended from the air; he was only at the Soul Realm, still learning to master flight.

He approached the three bodies.

Yang Wei made no extra movements—only drew from his storage artifact a long spear, forged from transcendent metal, the finest cold weapon Earth could currently produce.

Gripping the spear, he raised it and brought it down—the sharp tip pierced straight through their skulls. Unconvinced, he stabbed again and again.

Once certain all three were dead, he crouched beside the corpses and began searching them.

"Only I, Ah Wei, am truly reliable—self-reliant, when short on cash, I hunt monsters; when lacking gear, I loot corpses; I grow in silence, quietly stunning everyone."