Chapter 706: NO. 75: Niulang, you should think more

NO. 75: Niulang, you should think more

Niulang had a dream.

In the dream, he transformed into a giant beast that roamed the heavens, freely wandering the skies, until someone wanted to hitch him as a beast of burden to pull a cart.

He was naturally furious—how could his mighty, towering self be used to pull a cart for people, even if that cart was far larger than him, sheathed in thick alloy, and once actually moving would not need him to supply lift anyway?

Besides, such an attempt was meaningless.

Heavenly Peak had long since collapsed, far short of the Azure Firmament; that person no longer had a chance to find his old comrade.

Yet that person was incredibly obstinate, bothering him repeatedly, as if he differed from other giant beasts, as if he could surely bear that person's incredibly burdensome iron shell.

After who knows how long in the dream, he was eventually persuaded.

I don't know exactly how he was persuaded; he only remembers seeing the other produce a strange small piece, after which he sighed and allowed them to fasten a saddle-like huge bag around him, and then……

Then came strenuous running.

He ran until sparks blazed, until explosions filled his ears, until his whole body ached fiercely, his heart and lungs burning like fire, pleading for his four legs to stop that mutual-destruction gallop.

But his brain ultimately did not consent.

He neither stopped nor slowed; like a silent beast of burden, he shifted from below upward into a dazzling blaze, racing until he became a dwindling point of light at the vault of heaven—only then, amidst the numbness, did he violently twist his body.

Gazing at the iron shell that still rose, still encircled by flames, soaring toward the horizon, toward the location of one of the twin moons, it transformed into a radiance far brighter than his own.

Not the service box… who said… not the service box……

Isn't this… did it succeed, as the final… assistance……

I hope you can really find him……

Find the one who is imprisoned……

He closed his eyes in that blinding light; amidst the sour white radiance, only the burning pain over his whole body remained, as he awaited the sudden shift from light to darkness, when abruptly he heard a question:

"What is imprisoned?"

"Wow!" he snapped his eyes open to see an unfamiliar, crystal‑clear blue sky.

And a faint white mist lingered at the edge of his vision.

Could I still be flying?

He found himself thinking that, yet then heard the familiar voice say: "Don't bellow like an ox."

Um……

He turned his head and saw the ill‑humored Tianshu Sheng sitting on a stump‑like piece of something, looking down at him.

What's going on?

Did I fall asleep?

It shouldn't have been…? He strained to recall, then widened his eyes, looked again at Tianshu Sheng, and let out an even louder: "Ah!!!!"

"…I really can't stand this." The Tianshu Sheng, as if his ears hurt from the shock, raised a hand to brace his ear, but only symbolically propped one side; in raising his hand it seemed he scattered some strange pattern in midair.

Meanwhile Niulang simply stared at the youth instinctively, his gaze fixed like a bell.

In that recollection he recalled the endless black flames, the almost suffocating oppressive atmosphere, and within that atmosphere, the youth bound by countless fiery shackles.

Sometimes he appeared as that familiar calm visage, sometimes as a ferocious, terrifying monster; his hands were wrapped in the same fiery chains, and with a composed stance and demeanor he swiftly whispered low to him without turning his head:

'Run out immediately in the opposite direction later.'

Before he could say anything, his vision flashed, he felt intense heat, and then saw the terrifying immortal together with the unfamiliar, huge monster that hovered in midair alongside the previous Tianshu Sheng's posture.

But that monster was clearly of a different form from Tianshu Sheng.

He stood frozen, unmoving, seemingly having forgotten the youth's earlier command, then toppled to the ground from a sudden quake, gazing at the beast that seemed near yet was actually far, and at the monster's side‑face as it bowed to gaze at the beast—he hadn't even had time to cry out——

Then, from a sudden burning pain, his vision went black.

Recalling all that, he exclaimed in shock:

"You're also an immortal?!"

"No." Tianshu Sheng answered without expression, without hesitation.

"But you can turn into that!" Niulang, not noticing his slight hoarseness, gestured with his hand, still energetic, "And you can change back to this as well!"

And that Tianshu Sheng remained calm as well.

"It's not only deities who can do this."

"Then you must be the demons and ghosts those heavenly masters spoke of?"

"Nothing in the world is simply black or white, Niulang."

"Then what are you?"

"The one who pushed you into the river, the Tianshu Sheng you speak of."

"I'd almost forgotten that, yet you bring it up!"

"What has already happened ought not be forgotten; past memories will always catch up to you, Niulang."

Tianshu Sheng said this, turning his head to look toward the doorway as if pointing at something, then glancing back with a complex gaze as if recalling something else; Niulang too fell silent, and suddenly recalled the dream that had begun to fade.

Some dreams are like that—vividly clear in the dream, as if one could fully empathize; but once awake, that feeling and memory quickly become blotchy, as if your brain refuses to retain them, not even willing to spare a bit of memory.

But he still remembered the burning pain as if his body were on fire, just as clearly as when he had recently sat on a stone holding a fishing rod, dozing off; when he had grown accustomed to joking as if nothing were wrong, he was shoved into the river.

That, however, was indeed much cooler.

"I seem to have had a dream." He suddenly said.

"What kind of dream?" Tianshu Sheng asked.

His tone remained just as calm, as if blurting out such a sentence were not odd, even though Niulang himself clearly felt it strange to suddenly say that.

But the other party was already rather strange, so he continued: "A very familiar dream, as if he had been doing it all along."

"In the dream, I felt hot, thirsty, and painful."

"You were previously scorched by high heat; if not for Miss Zhi's willingness to rescue you, you probably wouldn't be able to speak like this for a while."

Fuck! Turns out I'm really in pain?!

"……" The profanity of Great Yan is actually this ancient? The silent Aomo couldn't help but wonder.

Pain feeds from reality into dreams—I wanted to say that, but you say you seem to have had this dream all along?

Yes, in the dream I'm still running.

Sounds like some giant who chases the sun." Aomo, however, recalls that this has already been passed down as an idiom to this day, an East Yan allusion.

Heat, thirst, pain, running—like a pursuit that ends without illness.

If it were those two horse girls outside, they'd probably have a different feeling.

But I seem to be chasing the moon.

…… This is truly an unexpected twist, do you still remember the reason?

Seems like… because of a woman?

…… I thought you were Niulang, not Bian Zhuang.

Who is Bian Zhuang?" Niulang wondered.

Grandmaster of the Nine Heavens, Esteemed Father, Controller of the Five Directions, Senior General of the Left Pillar of the North Pole, Commander-in-Chief, Grand Marshal Heavenly Peng True Lord, symbol of the Breaking Army Star of the Northern Dipper.

… You don't catch your breath?" Niulang was greatly astonished, as if discovering a new skill of the Heavenly Scribe.

To pant is to be impure; when borrowing a name to make a spell, it must be done in one breath, otherwise the effect is greatly diminished.

But I haven't memorized that string of things.

Niulang embarrassedly looked toward Aomo, who raised a hand and summoned a water blob.

The latter had just taken a sip: "Short for Marshal Heavenly Peng."

Oh.

Although Aomo didn't even know the special etiquette of a Daoist's bow, he clearly remembered these points of knowledge, especially the damn long honorifics of most East Yan deities.

The reason is precisely because of such demands, although he ultimately never walked that path.

Otherwise……

A Baide Daoist—just hearing it sounds like a beast tamer, inevitably inviting criticism.

That said, the image of Marshal Heavenly Peng is so warlike that in the Divine Void Sect it has spawned countless variations; its Heavenly Peng Thunder Method is even a popular choice for voluntary enrollment, and by the time of Journey to the West it had become like that… Aomo naturally doesn't believe the content of novel derivative works, but he's quite curious whether the creator, in their dreams, has ever been sought by the true lord himself.

After all, in the Terra Federation, those deities are not necessarily just clay idols and stone statues.

What does Marshal Heavenly Peng do?

?

Seeing Aomo's ineffable gaze, Niulang belatedly realized the problem with his phrasing: "… I'm asking, why did you bring him up?"

Chasing the moon because of a woman—there's a subtle similarity in some rumors, but I thought about it, maybe it's Fujiwara no Okina.

Who's that again?" Niulang again felt the erudition of the Heavenly Scribe.

But the Heavenly Scribe couldn't be bothered to demonstrate: "Not important, I doubt you have that ability—keep talking, what else do you remember? For example, how did you call that woman?"

As he said that, he seemed to be looking at the doorway again, making Niulang also unconsciously glance at the doorway, but nobody could see anything.

I don't really remember.

Oh, it's come to an end." Aomo let out a helpless sigh.

I should be able to remember it; let me think—at least, at least I can recall a single character.

Then take your time thinking; if you can't figure it out, you can also have a drink of water." Aomo said, raising a hand to point at another water blob that had appeared out of thin air.

Then he himself decided to drink the water ball in front of him, and suddenly heard the other party excitedly say:

I've got it! It's Xi!

Smack!

At the moment the water spurted out, the youth swiftly slapped it to one side, and in Niulang's horrified gaze it struck the wooden wall with a crisp sound, leaving a noticeable wet dent.

The person involved didn't care about those things, merely wiping the moisture from the corner of his mouth with his thumb:

You don't want to think again?

Think think think! I'll think again!!