Chapter 98: Dream

The bright moon hung in the sky, thousands of stars forming a vast star map across the heavens.

Lin Wanyi snapped back to awareness, startled to find her bedroom gone—replaced by the stars and moon above, and an endless, dark abyss all around.

Lin Wanyi froze, glancing left and right, then realized she sat atop a long, narrow stone stele, surrounded by boundless darkness, as if imprisoned in a black prison.

“Huh?”

Filled with confusion, Lin Wanyi turned to see Xie Jin sitting at the other end of the stele, fingers forming seals and murmuring incantations; she scrambled over and waved her hand in front of him:

“Xie Jin?”

“Hmm?”

Xie Jin opened his eyes and realized he’d fallen under another illusion again.

But Wanyi didn’t know the ghost bride was behind this—he still put on a confident expression and explained:

“We’ve successfully entered the dream. It’s always like this.”

“Really?”

Lin Wanyi was skeptical, leaning over the edge of the stele to peer downward, trying to identify the place.

Instead, she saw a massive black stele floating in the abyss.

Far below, faintly visible, lay a dragon-shaped mountain range coiled across the horizon.

Along the side of the black stele were carved intricate ancient characters:

“What does this say?”

Xie Jin leaned over beside Wanyi, using his childhood accumulation of obscure knowledge to roughly interpret:

“Looks like ‘South of the Southern Sea, there is a mountain called Ming… beneath it, a demon god is sealed… by day it takes dragon form… by night it wears… wears…’ I can’t make it out.”

“You made this dream, and you don’t understand it?”

“Things inside dreams aren’t real. Don’t take them seriously.”

Xie Jin sensed this was the ghost bride’s constructed illusion, hastily fabricated material—he scanned around, then looked up at the stars and moon:

“Then this… is the Martial Dao Divine Scripture.”

“Huh?”

Lin Wanyi looked up at the starry sky and saw the dense star clouds weren’t random—they formed a colossal human figure.

The star map used the bright moon as the dantian sea, with countless stars radiating outward from it like limbs and meridians, their flickering brightness and dimness possibly indicating the flow of qi.

Seeing this, Lin Wanyi sat up and tried to cultivate according to the star map’s guidance.

But as soon as she began, she realized this technique couldn’t be practiced at all.

As Princess Changning had said, the Martial Dao Divine Scripture was a teaching tool—the Martial Ancestor had studied every ancient martial technique, recorded every possible qi pathway, and synthesized them into a single system as a universal textbook.

Because it aimed to cover everything, the technique was bloated—the star map consisted of thirty-six thousand stars linked together, impossible to follow directly, yet anyone who looked could gain insight from the patterns.

Lin Wanyi wasn’t a martial cultivator and hadn’t even reached the Third Rank; to her, this was like reading celestial scripture.

Realizing she couldn’t learn it, her face twisted in frustration:

“Am I supposed to memorize all these stars?”

As a martial cultivator, Xie Jin could grasp some basics of this advanced material—he raised a hand and gestured:

“No need. Think of the star map as ‘three hundred and sixty lines.’ Memorize them one by one—it’s not too hard.”

Not hard?

Lin Wanyi wasn’t a martial cultivator—she figured memorizing it all would take half a year.

But since she was already here, she couldn’t back out—she tilted her neck upward and tried to memorize the star map.

The space atop the stele was small; staring up was uncomfortable, so Xie Jin thought for a moment, then lay flat on his back, hands clasped behind his head:

“Lie down and look. Tilting your neck is torture.”

Lin Wanyi hesitated, but her neck ached—after a brief pause, she crossed her arms and carefully lay down beside him, making sure Xie Jin wasn’t taking advantage, then focused entirely on the starry sky.

Xie Jin was deeply interested in the Martial Dao Divine Scripture—he didn’t disturb the glasses-wearer’s study, instead studying the star map closely, and soon realized this “Divine Scripture” should really be called—*The Three Hundred and Sixty Ways to Become a God of Martial Dao*.

Though the methods were ancient and no longer applicable today, its vast inclusiveness held every bizarre idea imaginable; with sufficient insight, one could easily synthesize a new path from the multitude.

Xie Jin’s cultivation was still low—he couldn’t yet perform it—but he found something usable for himself.

One method, “Qi Refining and Breath Control,” was intriguing: it transformed celestial and terrestrial qi in the order of the Five Elements, allowing martial cultivators to generate “balanced qi” and restore their dantian even in regions where the Five Elements were wildly imbalanced.

On the Martial Dao Divine Scripture, this was merely a minor resource-replenishing technique.

But applied to “Pouring Wax Backwards,” it became powerful!

Xie Jin originally had to “take one, discard four”—if he modified this method slightly to suit himself, it became “first split one into five, then merge five into one.”

Thus, he could use his martial true qi to unleash the full power of Five Element sorcery!

With the Zhenglun Sword, he could kill a Second Rank with a Third Rank Thunder Art—no surprise.

But the Martial Dao Divine Scripture’s starting point was far too high—his control over qi was still too crude to support this method.

And his body was too fragile; without meridians tougher than a dragon or qilin, and qi flow smoother than Dove chocolate, such rapid “extract, dismantle, transform, combine” operations would make him explode on the spot.

Even if he didn’t explode, he’d need minutes to channel it—he’d be cut to pieces before he finished.

But no matter the problems, the potential of this idea couldn’t be hidden.

Xie Jin became absorbed in crafting the technique, gradually slipping into a state of self-forgetfulness, losing awareness of time and place.

Lin Wanyi lay beside him, initially tense, but once she realized Xie Jin wasn’t sneaking touches, she slowly relaxed.

Then, like reading celestial scripture, her eyelids grew heavy and she began to doze off.

Ye Hongshang, though flamboyant, was always reliable—she realized Lin Wanyi, as a witch, couldn’t comprehend martial techniques, and began guiding her step by step.

Half-asleep, Lin Wanyi hadn’t fully drifted off when she sensed movement above—the star map began shifting, slowly transforming into a spectral human figure.

The figure drifted down from the sky, gradually merging with her own form.

Then, an immeasurable surge of spiritual power appeared within her body!

Her previously intangible meridians and dantian suddenly became visible—she could even *see* the tiny flaws in her meridians that she’d never noticed before…

This… was inner vision?!

Lin Wanyi had only heard of this realm in legends—she jolted awake, thinking:

What’s happening?

Could it be… I’m a martial genius after all?

She thought it was an illusion, so she tried to probe her body.

Her spiritual sense truly wandered within her inner realm—her once frail meridians now appeared as raging rivers, and with a gesture, she could control the flow of every drop.

This overwhelming sense of power swelled her confidence—she even felt she could crush Minister Lu Wu with a single finger.

Wow…

Once certain this wasn’t an illusion, Lin Wanyi, filled with wonder, rolled over and shook the man beside her:

“Xie Jin, I can do inner vision—I’ve become incredibly powerful.”

Xie Jin was deeply engrossed in refining his technique; hearing her, he knew the ghost bride was helping behind the scenes, and replied casually:

“That’s how enlightenment works in dreams—it means you’ve ‘gotten it.’ Follow your feeling.”

Lin Wanyi also felt she’d understood—she turned to observe Xie Jin’s body and saw his internal qi surging like ocean tides, flowing in a way she couldn’t comprehend, and asked:

“What technique are you practicing? Why can’t I understand it?”

“Pouring wax backwards in rotation.”

“R-rotation?”

Lin Wanyi thought the term sounded suspicious, but didn’t press further—she continued cultivating according to the star map’s pathways.

With a thought, fine threads of qi began flowing through her body, with precision she’d never imagined possible.

She felt as if someone were holding her hand, guiding her—learning was almost effortless; she only needed to memorize the steps.

But observing her entire body from this elevated perspective, she realized her own cultivation had serious flaws.

If she continued along this path, the higher her cultivation, the heavier the yin-cold pressure would become—though not fatal, it might eventually transform her into a “Supreme Yin Body.”

Such a body was typically the perfect vessel for a heavenly demon—this was a serious problem…

Though Lin Wanyi didn’t know how to correct the technique, her dual background in medicine and witchcraft allowed her to see how to neutralize the yin-cold energy.

In her understanding, the accumulated yin-cold qi needed to be counterbalanced by extreme yang qi—the easiest way was to find a man with strong yang energy and… press him against her until she was drained…

But given her current accumulation, she’d need to do this over a hundred times…

Where could she find such a man…

Perhaps because her current realm was so high, Lin Wanyi’s thought turned instinctively toward Xie Jin beside her.

At that moment, Xie Jin was deeply cultivating—his powerful qi surged from his dantian, circling his entire meridian network.

The intense yang qi hidden within his organs blazed like a suspended sun!

Not even using it—just tasting it—might extend his lifespan…

Pfft, pfft, pfft…

What the hell am I thinking?!

Why is my mind wandering like I’m possessed?

Lin Wanyi’s face flushed red—afraid Xie Jin might also “enlighten” and catch her thoughts—she quietly rolled over, turning onto her side, back to him, and observed the star map solely through her spiritual sense.

Rustling…

?

Xie Jin’s peripheral vision caught the curve of her waist—he recalled Su Su’s assessment of Little Auntie: accurate indeed, it was both large and round—he asked:

“Why are you facing your ass toward me?”

Splash~

Lin Wanyi quickly rolled back over and lay still, facing Xie Jin with a frown.

“Cultivate. Don’t let your mind wander.”

Is it me who’s distracted?

Xie Jin silently shook his head and stopped teasing Wanyi, whose every idle thought was written plainly on her face; he turned his focus back to the meridian patterns of the technique…

——

On the other side, the Li residence.

Zhou Ming’an, Deputy Minister of the Dalisi , sat beside the tea table, holding a teacup, a trace of worry etched on his brow:

“Minister of the Capital, Chen Ping, took the case files on the haunted imperial palace today—no doubt to hand them over to Xie Jin.”

“Three years ago, acting on Li Gongpu’s instructions, I cleared Han Jingchuan of guilt—clearly an unjust verdict. Once Xie Jin sees the files, he’ll come straight for me.”

“Han Jingchuan suddenly died today—I’m truly afraid…”

Li Gongpu paced back and forth in his study, one hand behind his back:

“Three years ago, you took Han Jingchuan’s silver to do his bidding—I merely introduced you. Don’t blame everything on me.”

“Yes.”

Zhou Ming’an nodded hastily: “I was blinded by greed back then. I fear this boy will use underhanded tactics—perhaps even send assassins after me. I beg you, Master Li…”

Li Gongpu raised a hand to cut him off:

“I enjoy His Majesty’s favor. Cao Fuer, that old eunuch, has long despised me.”

“If Xie Jin comes to assassinate me, he might pretend not to notice—but if I send men to kill Xie Jin, he’ll instantly turn into ‘Cao the Upright.’ To deal with this boy, we must follow the proper rules.”

“What do you mean, Master Li?”

“Assassinating a court official is tantamount to treason. I lured Han Jingchuan into the trap—but he couldn’t wait, and paid for it with his life. Don’t make his mistake.”

Li Gongpu turned to Zhou Ming’an:

“For the next few days, take leave and rest at Songhe Bay. When Xie Jin gets the old case files and dares come after you, he won’t leave alive.”

Zhou Ming’an wasn’t foolish—he understood this wasn’t a “trap to lure the enemy,” but likely a “Ming’an Offers His Head” scheme!

“Er… this plan is truly dangerous. What if this boy’s cultivation is too high and he bypasses the ambush?”

Li Gongpu knew the situation all too well.

If no official of some standing actually died, even if he caught Xie Jin red-handed, the outcome would likely be reduced to “Xie Jin, young and foolish, punished himself with three cups of wine.”

But he couldn’t say these truths outright. Li Gongpu sat on the tea couch and poured Zhou Ming’an a cup of tea:

“I’ll have Gongsun Duan from the Imperial Fist Pavilion station men nearby to watch. Xie Jin won’t bypass the ambush.”

“Er…”

Zhou Ming’an knew Li Gongpu’s character all too well. He lowered his voice:

“What if…?”

Pah~

Li Gongpu slammed the teacup onto the table:

“To achieve great things, how can you lack courage? Even if Xie Jin somehow escapes the ambush, your death will become a murder case involving a court official—I’ll dig up the earth three feet deep to find evidence to condemn him.”

“If you lack this courage, go home. I’m only offering advice—if you disdain it, I can’t help you.”

“….”

Zhou Ming’an truly feared Li Gongpu was deliberately sending him to die, to lure Xie Jin into the open.

But if Li Gongpu abandoned him, given Xie Jin’s momentum, he might die with no value at all. After agonizing deliberation, he finally nodded:

“I understand, Master Li.”

……

——

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(End of Chapter)