Chapter 404: The Reflection of a Backstab

On the dream realm's battlefield, the golden torrent formed by the convergence of war songs and psalms had just pushed back the withered monk's 'Final Gospel' by a third.

The monk's astonished expression lasted only an instant.

Immediately, that eerie smile crept back onto the corner of his mouth.

This time, however, the smile carried a cold, playful edge.

"The lament of all beings? It's really... just noisy chatter."

The monk's thought turned into a whisper, echoing within Yao's divine soul.

"Since the grand 'meaning' cannot defeat you……"

"Then let's start from the most minuscule, most private, and also dirtiest 'self'."

Before his words even faded, the monk's silhouette, formed from hundreds of millions of black smoke, spread out again soundlessly.

This time, the black smoke did not attack those living beings who were singing loudly.

They slowed their speed, silently infiltrating the deepest reaches of the dream realm where the voices were loudest and the convictions strongest.

……

In the beastman warrior's dream, bloody war smoke rose straight to the heavens.

He had just finished the last syllable of the ancestral war song, his chest burning with endless glory and fighting spirit.

Then, he saw it.

The scene shifted, no longer a battlefield of corpses and blood.

But a tranquil plain covered in white little flowers.

That was the place where, as a youth, he and his best brother first hunted down dire wolves.

On the plain stood a familiar back view.

Broad shoulders, thick arms, and an old scar running across his back—where his brother had been clawed by a dire wolf while saving him.

"Badun?"

The beastman warrior growled low, instinctively wanting to step forward.

That back view turned around, bearing a simple, honest smile.

Yet in his hand he gripped a bone dagger coated with poison.

"Why… why betray the tribe?"

In the dream, Badun opened his mouth, but his voice turned into another beastman's resentful roar.

The scene shifted again.

The beastman warrior saw himself standing before the tribe's altar, receiving the cheers of ten thousand.

Yet beneath the altar, his wife, children, and all the clanspeople looked at him with eyes mixed with fear and hatred.

Their bodies were pierced with fragments of his weapon.

"Tyrant!"

"Despot!"

"You've killed everything we had!"

Countless phantoms of accusation surged from all directions, engulfing him.

Not the glory of the war song.

But the stab from behind by the brother he trusted most.

Not the clanspeople's cheers.

But the hell he himself had wrought, as seen in their eyes.

The beastman warrior's eyes lost their bloody hue in an instant, leaving only bewilderment and self-doubt.

His war song fell silent.

……

In the elf mage's dream, the radiance of the genesis hymn transformed into chains of order, pinning the black smoke fast.

He was the keeper of knowledge, the master of magic.

Then, he saw it.

His proudest achievement, the purification formation he had spent a hundred years developing, was now losing control.

The formation's light was no longer pure white, but had turned into a devouring, murky black.

Where its light passed, it did not purify pollution.

But the magnificent elven library he himself had built, which silently turned to ash.

The world tree he had served for a millennium, withered and collapsed.

It was his disciple, whom he had taught, who wore a strange smile and drove his own staff into his chest.

"Master, you didn't say magic is a tool that brings hope and order, did you?"

The disciple asked softly, "Why… does it now leave only destruction?"

The elf mage's proud magic had become the culprit that destroyed his homeland.

He firmly believed in that truth, and with his own hands buried everything he loved.

That elegant verse lodged in his throat, turning into a choked sob.

……

Despair began to spread rapidly through the myriad dream realms.

It no longer proclaimed the abstract 'void.'

It does only one thing—turn your innermost fears, regrets, and unbearable 'what ifs' into living reality before your eyes.

Are you a hero?

Then I'll let you see how much innocent blood and tears your glory is built upon.

Are you a wise one?

Then I'll let you see what tragedy your proud knowledge ultimately brewed into.

Are you loving parents?

Then I'll let you see how your child is suffering endlessly because of you.

"All Beings' Lament" the originally soaring and powerful golden melody begins to go seriously out of tune.

In the song, uncontrollable sobs, angry accusations, painful confessions, and endless self-loathing are mixed in.

The line of hope was not broken from outside.

It began to rot and collapse from within.

……

【Dream Pure Land】 the splendid dreamlike city walls, their brilliance rapidly dimming.

Numerous fine deep-gray cracks spread from the base of the walls.

Where the cracks pass, the city walls' beautiful dream light quickly fades and peels.

The entire city is silently collapsing.

Yao's face was pallid, almost transparent.

She poured all her heart and mind into the battlefield of hundreds of millions of dream realms, trying with her last strength to mend the beliefs that were splitting apart.

But the enemy was too cunning and also too vicious.

What it attacks is precisely the heart, the hardest to defend.

At that moment, an irresistible malice bypassed all defenses and pierced deep into Yao's own Divine Soul.

It was not an attack.

But rather… a manifestation.

She 'saw' it.

She saw Sun Wukong, in his final showdown with the Original Mistake, being ground inch by inch and devoured by that indescribable monster.

She saw her own Dream Pure Land, which she had burned everything to build, shatter outright before absolute power.

She saw all the civilizations reborn on the Ark sink again into despair.

She saw Sun Wukong's final gaze toward her, filled with reluctance and exhaustion.

She saw all her sacrifices, all her perseverance, all the pain she endured gritting her teeth… ultimately become a meaningless joke.

These visions were so real, so cruel, carrying a despair that suffocates, wildly assaulting her mind already on the brink of collapse.

"No… this isn't real…" Yao tried to roar, but no sound came out.

Intense pain and self-doubt quickly overwhelmed her consciousness.

She maintained the power of the Dream Pure Land, which began to fluctuate violently.

The cracks on the walls suddenly expanded!

"Fake! It's all fake!"

Yao bit hard, breaking her own tongue tip.

Severe pain mixed with the taste of blood spread throughout her Divine Soul.

She was forcibly pulled back from that terrifying hallucination, regaining a modicum of clarity.

This was the enemy's most vicious attack.

What it sought to destroy was not her body, nor her Dream Realm.

But rather, it was the trust between her and Sun Wukong, that most precious and unquestionable belief.

Once that belief collapsed, her Dao, her Dream, and everything she had would instantly crumble.

But those visions were too real……

The realism made her Línghún tremble.

Just as her mind faltered, the Dream Pure Land was about to be torn apart completely by the cracks spreading from within.

Deep within her body, the long-dormant Primordial Source of Sun Wukong's Chaos Dao erupted violently!

A domineering force, brimming with arrogance and Unyielding will, surged fiercely into that icy, despairing illusion!

"Get lost……!!!"

A blurry yet intimately familiar roar phantom flashed through Yao's sea of consciousness.

That crimson-gold power brutally swept everything away!

All images of Sun Wukong's defeat and sacrifice instantly shattered and vanished!

The illusion invading Yao's mind was temporarily shattered into fragments by this force emanating from the source.

Yao gasped heavily, her face still pale, but her eyes regained their resolve.

She held on.

But she knew this was only temporary.

That enemy had already found the most effective way to attack.

And that crimson-gold power, after erupting, quickly faded, unable to sustain long.

What made her heart race even more was that, in the final instant the illusion shattered, she seemed to… see a hint of smug coldness flash across the monk's face.

He…… was waiting for her to reveal a weakness?

Or rather, was the illusion itself meant to…… draw out that Sun Wukong power within her?

A cold thought sliced through Yao's heart.

Instinctively, she clutched her lingering divine sense tightly around the faint crimson-gold glow within her.

At the same time, under the intangible gaze of the withered monk, the cracks on the walls of 【Dream Pure Land】 ceased to spread.

But those cracks were deeply imprinted upon the illusory city walls.

Within the city, the dreams of countless Living Beings remained shrouded in the shadows of betrayal, regret, and despair.

The singing had almost fallen silent.

The monk sat cross-legged in midair, palms pressed together.

He whispered softly, yet his voice echoed throughout the entire dream battlefield:

"Look, this is what 'bond' means."

"The sweetest poison, the deadliest weakness."

"It gives you meaning to protect……"

"It also gives you a 'meaning' that can be easily shattered."

His gaze seemed to pierce through layer after layer of dream, landing directly on Yao's body, which was trembling slightly, existing between the virtual and the real.

It fell upon her body, upon that cluster of crimson-gold light that had just erupted but now appeared exceptionally faint.

The next moment, the monk's hitherto calm tone took on a hint of cruel anticipation:

"Well…"

"If this 'bond' itself admits its own 'Error'……"

"Then how should you go about protecting it?"