Chapter 402: Plague of the Dream Realm

The siege hammer formed from countless chains, carrying the terrifying power to smash a hole in the Universe, finally fell!

It had no target.

Or rather, its target was the entire Dream Pure Land!

However.

In expectation, the image of that dream‑lonely city being shattered in one blow did not appear.

When the black hammerhead touched the thin as a cicada's wing dream‑realm radiance on the city's outermost layer,

Hum—

A strange humming sound rang out.

The entire Dream Pure Land was like a huge jelly dropped onto a lake surface.

It twisted violently and wildly!

The power of "Negation" capable of destroying everything was, by this extremely soft dream realm,

In a completely irrational way, it dissipated force layer by layer, then spread wildly in all directions!

The city shook violently.

Light and shadow on the city walls flickered, and countless beautiful dreams almost shattered under the impact.

But, it held!

Unscathed, it withstood this heaven‑shaking, earth‑destroying blow!

The battlefield fell into an eerie deathly silence.

The will of the "Original Mistake" for the first time gave rise to an emotion called "bewilderment".

Its absolutely rational mind could not comprehend what lay before it.

Power, unable to take effect on the dream realm?

Just as you cannot use a fist to scatter a clump of real mist.

Physical attacks, against a city built from "concept" and "hope", are laughably inefficient!

"So that's how it is......"

"An interesting...... structure......"

Cold thoughts echoed in the void.

It understood.

The best way to destroy a dream is never to apply violence from the outside.

But rather......

From within, let the dreamer wake up on their own.

Or let him sink forever into nightmare!

The next second.

That supreme will, crossing endless space like a highest‑authority command, precisely descended upon one of its "apostles".

Above the ruined world.

Sun Wukong just smashed the withered monk wearing the Tathagata's skin with a staff.

Not a trace of residue remained.

He was preparing to move on to the coordinates of the next apostle.

However.

At the very spot where he had been blasted into nothingness,

A faint black smoke, almost imperceptible, quietly condensed into form.

That black smoke twisted and changed.

Eventually, it once again took the shape of that withered monk.

He remained seated cross‑legged in the void, palms together.

Just this time.

On his face, which had remained unchanged for ten thousand years, like that of a dead person,

For the first time, he slowly split open a strange "smile".

In that smile there was no compassion, no joy.

Only a pure malice that made one feel icy cold from the depths of the soul.

Immediately.

His figure, like a sand painting blown away by the wind,

With a puff, it turned into countless more minute black threads, invisible to the naked eye and to divine sense.

These threads ignored space and distance.

Their target was only one——

Dream Pure Land!

These black threads were like a gang of the most secret thieves.

They did not attack the walls built of hope.

But they slipped in as easily as dissolving in water, directly penetrating inside!

Their target was not the city, nor Yao.

But rather, inside the city, each living being contributing the power of "hope"!

A child was having a sweet dream.

In the dream, there was a pretty little house entirely built of candy and chocolate.

He was happily licking the window made of candy.

Just then.

A withered monk appeared silently in his dream.

The monk smiled, extended his withered finger toward the candy house, and lightly tapped it.

Instantly!

The sweet candy began to rot at a visible speed, oozing black pus.

It was crawling with writhing white maggots!

"Wah——!"

The child's dream was completely flooded with screams and fear.

In another dream.

A hundred‑battles victorious general stood on the city wall, enjoying the cheers of the myriad people.

The victorious bugle played an triumphant, stirring song.

The monk's silhouette also appeared.

He simply blew a gentle breath upon that bugle.

The stirring triumphant song instantly turned into a mournful, despairing wail!

The cheering populace below the city walls each transformed into vengeful spirits accusing him of command errors that caused the army's annihilation, reaching out with claws to pounce on him!

The hero's dream shattered.

The Tathagata monk was using himself to spread a silent yet extremely deadly 'dream realm plague' across the entire city!

The name of this plague is——

"Meaningless!"

No matter how sweet your beautiful dream, it will eventually rot.

No matter how glorious your achievements, they will ultimately turn to dust.

Everything you have is meaningless.

……

The core of the Dream Pure Land.

Yao's complexion suddenly changed!

She discovered in shock.

The streams of light that continuously conveyed the power of 'hope' to her, connecting all the living beings within the city, were rapidly dimming and even breaking off at a terrifying speed.

One!

Ten!

Ten thousand!

The living beings within the city began to fall into deep unconsciousness one after another!

Their bodies were still alive.

Their vital signs were completely normal.

But their souls, the burning flame of hope, were swiftly and silently extinguished in the decay of their respective dreams!

"Not good!"

Yao instantly understood the enemy's malicious intent!

This is cutting off the fire beneath the cauldron!

If this continues, within half an hour her 'hope' energy supply will be completely cut off!

By then, the Dream-Pure Land will collapse on its own!

She had no choice!

"You want to play with dreams on my home turf?"

Yao's gaze instantly turned icy and sharp.

"Courting death!"

With a thought, her vast Divine Soul power split into myriad strands of intent.

She intended to personally descend into those contaminated dreams, drag out the scoundrel spreading the plague, and crush him!

That was a battle so bizarre and fantastical that outsiders could scarcely imagine it!

In a painter's dream.

The entire world was dyed by the Tathagata monk into a dreary black‑white‑gray trio.

Yao's Divine Soul descended!

She incarnated as the Muse goddess, her brush dipped in a brilliant river of stars!

A single dot!

The withered earth instantly burst open with billions of ever‑blooming roses!

Another stroke!

The deathly silent sky was hung with seven‑colored auroras and meteors!

She wielded the color of 'hope' to forcibly oppose that 'meaningless' deathly silence!

In another poet's dream.

The Tathagata monk incarnated as a philosopher, chanting nihilistic philosophy with the coldest logic.

"Life is an endless toil; death is the only release."

Yao's Divine Soul transformed into a wandering bard's spirit.

She loudly refuted with the most romantic, most stirring verses!

"No! Life is that blood‑stained rose upon thorns! It is that stubborn petrel in the storm!"

"Its meaning lies in the act of resistance itself!"

Yao gave it her all!

She successfully reclaimed several contaminated dream realms from the Tathagata's hands!

She relit those several souls on the verge of extinction!

But……

Each purification was a massive drain on her Divine Soul!

Yet the Tathagata monk's contamination was like an unstoppable virus!

At geometric speed, it spread wildly through the city's hundreds of millions of dream realms!

She simply couldn't divide herself!

Yao felt her consciousness being infinitely divided and pulled.

She was like a doctor, yet had to face hundreds of millions of patients all falling ill at once!

She couldn't save them!

She simply couldn't save them!

At the moment Yao's Divine Soul was about to be drained by this endless dream battlefield, on the verge of collapse.

In one of the dream realms she was desperately purifying.

The Tathagata's figure, wearing a mocking smile, coalesced once more.

He stretched out his hand; a thick, undissolvable Negation force, like a black tide, ruthlessly pressed upon Yao's already tottering Divine Soul!

"End."

An icy voice echoed in Yao's soul.

Yao felt a wave of despair.

Was she about to… lose?

However.

At the very moment that black tide was about to engulf her.

A golden light!

An incredibly overbearing, incredibly unruly, incredibly familiar golden radiance!

Suddenly erupting from deep within Yao's Divine Soul, without warning!

A palm‑sized little monkey, its whole body ablaze with crimson‑gold flames, wielding a similarly miniature iron rod, leapt forth from the golden light!

It gazed at the vast black tide before it and the pretentious monk.

On its tiny face appeared a smile, full of mockery and contempt, just like Sun Wukong's.

The next second.

It raised the small iron rod in its hand.

"Take this… one strike from your grandfather Sun!"