In the blink of an eye, another ten years passed after Jing Pei and Tang Woxue became friends in the dream.
At first, the dragon had carried the human through the air in her claws. Now, she allowed him to stand on her paw. Their friendship had slowly deepened with the passage of time, fermenting without either of them realizing it.
Night fell, and the dragon sank into a deep sleep once more, snoring away.
Tang Woxue sat beside the burned-out campfire and gazed at the colossal creature next to him. Once again, a profound sense of helplessness washed over him.
Never in his life had he met a woman so completely unmoved by his attempts to charm her. Trying to win her over was nothing short of hell difficulty.
Ten years.
For ten whole years, he had tried to transform the dragon’s feelings for him from friendship into love. He had spared no effort in caring for her and pleasing her, displaying his charm from every possible angle. These were things he had never once done in the real world.
And still, he had failed.
Sometimes, when the dragon saw him turning on the charm, she would open her enormous, blood-red maw and roar with wild laughter.
“You’re hilarious! Hahahaha! Have you suddenly come down with some terrible disease, my friend?”
“My friend, are all humans as ridiculous as you?”
“My friend, polish my claws for me. I’m too lazy to move.”
Tang Woxue: “…”
Veins bulging, he punched the air.
She called him “my friend,” but what she really meant was “servant.”
The evidence proved that the dragon did possess a conscience.
Just not very much of one.
As Tang Woxue understood it, between two people who were not related by blood, only love could drive someone mad enough to give everything for another person. What friends were willing to do for each other had limits. Friendship might even be mixed with all kinds of complicated emotions, such as envy and jealousy. A friend might not sincerely wish for everything to go well for you.
Although the thought that he had ulterior motives and was deceiving her feelings left him with a rare sense of discomfort, the moment he thought of Yan Jinhua, he pushed that feeling aside without a second thought.
Losing a dragon horn would not kill her, but it had a good chance of saving Yan Jinhua.
He had to save Yan Jinhua.
“It’s already afternoon in the real world. She’s popular and has a lot of friends. Once the sun goes down, some people would probably come to visit her. Sooner or later, someone will notice something is wrong. We don’t have much time left,” Tang Woxue told Lolita after learning the time in the real world.
Lolita was also inside the dream, but Isaac remained outside and could tell her how much time had passed.
During the day, people had work or school, and Jing Pei’s injury was only a scrape, so not many people came to see her. At night, however, it would be a completely different story.
The most frightening possibility was Qiu Fa showing up.
A powerhouse of his caliber might spot something amiss at a glance. They had to accomplish their objective before nightfall.
Thus, Tang Woxue finally abandoned his faint hope of making Jing Pei fall in love with him inside the dream and obtaining her dragon horn that way. Instead, he chose a risky method, but one that at least had a greater chance of success.
He would dig into Jing Pei’s subconscious, searching for her darkest secrets, her greatest fears, her fatal weaknesses, and anything else he could use. Then, in the real world, he would coerce her into giving him a dragon horn.
It was despicable, and far too many things could go wrong.
But for Yan Jinhua, he had no other choice.
Digging up secrets was another specialty of the Nightmare Atavist. All Lolita needed to do was switch to “Personality Surgery” mode and transfer part of the dream master’s authority to Jing Pei. The world would then change according to Jing Pei’s subconscious. Those changes would reveal what she really thought and felt, allowing observers to peer into her secrets.
The world must have already begun to change.
Tang Woxue returned to the dragon’s side and tossed and turned, could not sleep.
The dragon beside him, who had been sleeping like a little piglet, opened her eyes.
“My friend, are you constipated? You took forever.”
Tang Woxue jumped, then stared at her with no words. Just as he was about to answer, she added, “You remembered to bury it, didn’t you? I don’t want to accidentally pass by and see it.”
Tang Woxue: “…”
Every time he went to communicate with Lolita, his excuse was that he needed to relieve himself. Now, he could only swallow his grievance and answer, “I buried it.”
Tang Woxue rolled over, presenting her with his back as if he could no longer bear to face her.
He had no idea that those beautiful, imposing dragon eyes were fixed on him, nor what thoughts flowed through their depths.
They haven’t managed to win me over after all this time. They should be changing their plan soon, shouldn’t they?
The Nightmare Atavist’s ability to uncover secrets was exceptional. Compared with combat, her powers were far better suited to intelligence work and interrogation.
It was an ability Jing Pei needed very much.
They wanted to find her weaknesses, while she, too, ought to move on to the next stage of her plan.
For someone like Tang Woxue, the lock Yan Jinhua had placed upon him could not be undone through friendship alone.
He needed another lock.
He needed a “lock” the way a kite needed a string. Without one, he would fall and destroy himself.
“What lock?” Yan Jinhua’s nephew asked, still not ready to let the matter go.
Had she found some Atavist and had them place a curse or something similar on Tang Woxue?
Yan Jinhua asked, “Do you know the greatest difference between humans and animals?”
“What is it?” He could not be bothered to guess.
“Greed.”
Yan Jinhua’s eyes widened with a touch of madness as she smiled.
“Compared with animals, human desires are endless. An animal can spend its entire life satisfied once its hunger and reproductive instincts have been met. But humans are different. Once their material and physical needs are satisfied, they must fulfill all kinds of emotional and spiritual needs. If those needs remain unmet, they can actually become sick, unhappy, or even want to die. Don’t you think humans are troublesome, neurotic creatures? They’re very greedy.”
Her nephew froze, then furrowed his brow.
“What are you trying to say? What need of Tang Woxue’s did you satisfy? He looks like he doesn’t want anything at all.”
“That is exactly the problem. If a human really has no desires, then he can neither find happiness nor find a reason to live.”
“So?”
“If he is a kite, then I am the one holding his string. Ever since he left his parents, the goal of his life and the meaning of his existence have been to cure me. Once I die, he will lose his reason to live. Death will not be far behind. That is why he will never allow me to die. He would rather give me his heart than let me die.”
This lock was invisible.
Invisible, yet fatal.
After his parents shattered his heart and soul, she took him away. Because she had carefully controlled his life, he never gained a true friend, nor did he receive genuine care from anyone other than her. He had also studied medicine and grown accustomed to seeing people separated by life and death.
In every aspect of his life, he had drifted toward numbness.
Even if a suitor offered him the most passionate love now, it would be difficult to stir his heart. To his eyes, which had already seen through everything, such feelings were childish and shallow.
How could they possibly move him?
Apart from the slightest instinct for survival, Tang Woxue had nothing left on a spiritual or emotional level. He needed a meaning for his existence. He needed a goal for his life.
His survival instinct had driven him to create one in order to save himself. Without it, he would surely go mad and slide into the abyss.
Yan Jinhua had learned from the Yan family long ago how dangerous it could be when a person’s emotional needs were not met.
Half the members of the Yan family had either died in reckless street races or through insane extreme sports. They had no goals to pursue and could find no meaning in their existence. In the end, they gave up on themselves. They did not die of disease, but because of the emptiness inside their minds.
So when Tang Woxue came to her, Yan Jinhua decided what his reason for living would be.
Saving her.
She strengthened it over and over.
“Please. I’m counting on you.”
“I promise I will.”
Again and again, the lock grew stronger.
And throughout all these years, Tang Woxue had indeed spent every day revolving around that single purpose. Whether it was his medical research, his schemes to acquire a dragon horn, or his willingness to give her his own heart, everything served the same meaning.
That was why Yan Jinhua firmly believed that even if Tang Woxue learned what she had done back then, he would not give up on sacrificing his heart for her.
To him, losing his reason for living would be even more painful than death.
He did not love himself.
He did not love this world.
Nor did he love anyone in it.
So other than devoting himself to her, what other meaning could he find in his existence?
Who else could give him such a meaning?
He could barely bring himself to feel affection for another person at all.
Countless new things quietly appeared in the world, and countless changes followed.
When Lolita had been the sole dream master, humans and monsters inhabited the world, but it had remained peaceful and tranquil.
Once Jing Pei became a dream master as well, the world transformed completely.
War raged wherever they went. Countless human corpses lay strewn across the ground. Monsters ran rampant, devouring humans and one another. Dark clouds smothered the sky, obscuring the sun and moon.
Every corner of the world spoke of despair and suffering.
Both Lolita and Tang Woxue were astonished.
These scenes reflected Jing Pei’s subconscious.
Was the darkness in her heart really this deep?
Standing on one of the dragon’s paws, Tang Woxue looked down from the sky at a burning village. Beside the corpses of his parents, a child wailed with grief.
The cries seemed to rise from the depths of the child’s soul, tugging at the heart.
“How did it become like this? What happened?” Tang Woxue asked with a frown.
“You don’t know?”
The dragon, however, remained calm, as if she had seen it all before.
Tang Woxue stared at her.
“It seems that although your family abandoned you, your life wasn’t all that miserable, my friend,” the dragon said. “This is the world’s true face. If this is your first time seeing it, then you have been rather fortunate.”
Tang Woxue suddenly wondered.
Perhaps this world reflected reality.
And indeed, the real world was just like this. Crime occurred every day. People died every day. Ordinary humans could encounter death at any moment, living each day in constant fear.
It was in such an environment that conflict between ordinary humans and Atavists had intensified.
Envy, jealousy, hatred, and the darkness in people’s hearts existed everywhere. They had even given birth to criminal organizations like the Atavist Serum Organization and the Atavist Genetics Control Organization.
How similar this place was to the real world.
It was a dull, gloomy world that offered nothing to look forward to. If infants could know at birth what kind of world awaited them, perhaps they would cry even louder, desperate to crawl back inside their mothers’ wombs.
Had Jing Pei manifested this reflection of reality because there was something she wished to do about the world?
Did she want to become a hero who would change it?
Tang Woxue asked, “Do you want to change the world?”
The dragon snorted.
“Change the world? That sounds far too exhausting. At most, I’d like to change the future a little.”
What difference was there between changing the world and changing the future?
As expected of the young heir of the Long family. She possessed the broad vision and ambition worthy of her position.
Just then, the dragon spoke in a disdainful, disgusted tone.
“Look at this. All that crying keeps me from sleeping properly. And among the other monsters, there are always a few who overestimate themselves and lack any self-awareness, coming to challenge me. It’s annoying beyond belief, and it’ll only get worse in the future. If I’m ever going to get a good night’s sleep, someone ought to establish rules for this world.”
Inside the dream, with all her defenses lowered, she would expose her innermost thoughts without reservation.
Tang Woxue: “…”
It was my mistake to imagine your motives were noble and heroic.
After a moment, however, Tang Woxue could not hold back a faint laugh.
This was indeed more like her.
A dazzling little villain who was neither entirely good nor entirely evil.
“Several hundred years ago, I made a bet with one of my clansmen that I could accomplish what I wanted. The bet was that if I failed, I would imprison myself for five hundred years. Then I lost,” the dragon grumbled. “Humans are too complicated. They lie and scheme. They’re weak and despicable. If I’d had you by my side back then, things would have been much better, my friend.”
She had even fabricated an explanation for why she had imprisoned herself in the valley.
“What could I have done if I’d been with you?” Tang Woxue asked, his voice turning hoarse.
Weak and despicable.
That described him perfectly.
For the first time in his life, a strange new feeling arose within him.
Shame at his own inferiority.
“You definitely could have helped me achieve my dream.”
The dragon brightened again.
“It isn’t too late now. Let’s change the future together, so I can sleep in peace from now on, my friend.”
Someone wanted to change the world because reality was too chaotic and annoying for her to get a good night’s sleep.
No heroic savior had ever had ever built their convictions upon such a reason.
It was certainly a first.
Then again, she had stayed up late that very morning because of a criminal organization. Her exhaustion had allowed an assassin to find an opening and graze her skin.
It was obvious.
They had failed again.
After observing her for some time, Tang Woxue finally realized that truth.
There were no secrets hidden in the depths of this girl’s heart. Nor did she possess a weakness they could use to threaten her.
Not only that, she wanted to change the world.
Her reason might not have been noble. It was even selfish and childish enough to be endearing, but her objective itself was noble.
Thinking about it carefully, Tang Woxue realized that his efforts had been pointless.
The fact that she could summon a six-winged angel was already proof enough of the purity of her soul.
“Come help me achieve this dream, my friend,” the dragon invited him again.
Her reason might have been childish, but she was utterly determined. Getting a good night’s sleep was far too important to her.
All he needed to do was nod and give her a false promise. The dream would end soon anyway.
Yet for some reason, such a simple response proved impossible.
Tang Woxue’s neck felt as if it had been trapped in a concrete brace. His throat seemed clogged with cotton.
He could not answer.
“…Do you have any weaknesses no one else knows about?” he finally asked, without the slightest hope.
“Of course. Every dragon has a reverse scale…”
The dragon waved a claw as if she were about to point it out.
“Wait! You! You really don’t need to tell me something like that!”
Tang Woxue’s eyes flew wide. The words burst from him in a panicked shout before he could stop himself, and he nearly lost his composure.
His heart hammered.
“Hahahaha! What were you imagining, my friend? I’d never tell you where my reverse scale is.”
Having successfully tricked him, the dragon opened her enormous maw and laughed again.
Tang Woxue: “…”
His fists clenched once more.
The dragon then stretched out a paw and ordered, “My friend, scrub my claws. There’s mud on them.”
Tang Woxue punched the air out of habit.
Then, just as out of routine, he picked up a strip of cloth and labored away at her claws like a cobbler polishing shoes.
The dragon continued, “If I told you where my reverse scale was, then one day, if my enemies captured you, you’d be put through hell. Humans are too fragile. I don’t want to lose you, my friend.”
Tang Woxue fell silent.
“…You said yourself that humans are treacherous. You shouldn’t tell anyone about a weakness like that. I’m… not entirely trustworthy either. If I were captured, I might reveal the location of your reverse scale almost immediately.”
After saying this, he lowered his lashes.
He did not notice the wicked amusement flashing through the dragon’s eyes.
Above them, Lolita stroked her chin as she watched the human and dragon below. Recalling the conversation they had just shared, a sharp gleam flashed through her azure eyes.
She suddenly struck one fist against her palm.
“I’ve got it!”
The real world.
Isaac gently pulled aside the curtain and watched the hospital entrance.
The sunlight had begun to dim, and the heat of the day had faded. Hospital employees finishing their shifts passed through the doors alongside those reporting for duty.
A beautiful boy with a pair of strange, dreamlike eyes came sprinting toward the hospital.
Isaac tensed at first, then relaxed.
It was Chu Xusheng, the Long family’s only current retainer.
He was just a wet-behind-the-ears brat who had only recently become an Atavist. Although he was a King Insect Atavist with a very high degree of atavist purity, he sorely lacked combat experience and knew far too little about the dangers of the Atavist world.
He was no threat.
Isaac listened to the faint sounds as the boy rushed into the hospital, entered an elevator, raced down a corridor, and finally stopped outside the hospital room upstairs.
The soundproofing in Atavist hospitals was excellent. It had cost a fortune. Even the extraordinary five senses of an Atavist were not enough to eavesdrop through the walls.
Still, Isaac could roughly guess what was happening.
The boy’s family head was asleep, so naturally, he would not enter and disturb her. He would stay outside like a dutiful retainer the door, never realizing that she had been dragged into an enemy’s dream.
Everything happened exactly as Isaac expected.
Chu Xusheng stood guard outside the door, guilt written all over his face.
He had failed in his duty.
His body had already recovered, but to avoid his final exams, he had planned to wait until they were over before returning to her side. Because of that, she had been forced to face the attack alone.
It should have been his responsibility.
He should have stood in front of her and faced it in her place.
He had been blaming himself all day, ever since he heard the news that morning. It was only because of Jing Pei’s arrangements the previous night that he had managed to wait until now before coming.
At the time, he had been too excited that he could finally make himself useful. He had never imagined that she might actually be injured.
“It was only a scrape,” a nurse said, unable to resist comforting him when she saw how pitiful he looked.
“Thank you. You don’t need to worry about me,” Chu Xusheng muttered.
He did not appear comforted at all.
As a retainer, it was only right that he die in his family head’s place. Even if it was nothing more than a scrape, he should have been the one to suffer it.
At that moment, downstairs, Isaac’s expression changed.
Someone had entered through the hospital doors.
A black Tribunal Division uniform.
Austere black leather gloves.
An intimidating enforcement baton.
A cold, sharp face devoid of expression.
And a crushing presence that made it difficult to breathe.
Damn it.
It was Qiu Fa.
His arrival had been the worst possibility they had considered, but they had thought the chances of him actually coming were very low.
After all, it was only a minor scrape.
Was that really enough to warrant a personal visit from the Director of the Tribunal Division?
Wait. What was that basket in his hand?
Was it a weapon?
No. Oh, it was canned tuna…
Huh?
Isaac tilted his head. Those could not be gifts for a patient, could they? Were get-well gifts in Hualan always this unusual?
Of course, Qiu Fa would not make a special trip over a mere scrape. But when someone had been in the hospital all day because of that scrape, it was only natural to wonder whether the injury was more serious than it seemed.
Isaac let the curtain fall and hurried to Lolita’s bedside. Leaning close to her ear, he said, “Sweetheart, Qiu Fa is here. It’s time to end this.”
“Employer, we should wrap things up. Qiu Fa is here,” Lolita informed Tang Woxue.
“I know.”
Tang Woxue had already given up. There was no chance he would obtain the dragon horn.
Yet the thought of giving up did not leave him discouraged. Instead, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Even though without the dragon horn, he would have to give Yan Jinhua his heart.
Lolita looked at him with one hand on her hip.
“Employer, do you still want the dragon horn or not?”
Tang Woxue paused. “…Of course it would be good if we could get it.”
“You said you’d double the remaining payment if we got the dragon horn, right?”
“…I did.”
One of her sharp, vampire-like canines caught her lower lip. After coming this far, she was reluctant to give up, especially now that she had thought of a plan with a high chance of success.
Fortunately, time passed much faster in the dream than it did outside. In the time it took Qiu Fa to walk from the hospital entrance to the lobby, they still had a while to act inside the dream.
“Then leave the rest to me.”
For the sake of doubling her payment, the Nightmare Atavist took control from him.
She was not as unreliable as her employer seemed to think. She might have a cute face and dress in an equally cute style, but she was no empty-headed little girl.
She was a mercenary.
Compared with the other members of the Trident Mercenary Corps, she might not be a bloodthirsty killer with countless lives on her hands, but she was still a mercenary.
Before Tang Woxue could react, his body began to turn transparent.
The Nightmare Atavist standing across from him took on his appearance.
The dragon’s dearest human friend fell ill.
He was seriously ill. His face had turned pale, his lips were black, and he seemed to be on the verge of death.
The dragon carried him from place to place in search of a doctor. Every doctor she found either died of fright or fled at the sight of her. After great difficulty, she managed to catch a few who, trembling from head to toe, told her that he had most likely been poisoned.
The poison had already spread deep into his organs.
No medicine could save him.
“This is what humans are like. Didn’t you already know?” the fake Tang Woxue said in a weak voice. “We’re as small and fragile as ants. Sometimes, all it takes is a gust of wind to carry us away.”
The real Tang Woxue stood nearby and watched. He had no idea what the Nightmare Atavist was trying to do or why she had arranged this scene.
“You always give up too easily, my friend. I’m still counting on you to help me achieve my dream.”
The dragon refused to lose hope. She carried him everywhere, searching for doctors and medicine.
To avoid frightening the doctors to death and losing every chance of saving her friend, she took on a frail human form for the first time. She now looked exactly like the girl in the real world, carrying him on her back as she ran from place to place.
Tang Woxue watched from the side as a strange ache spread through his chest.
The dragon was so powerful and free-spirited, yet she cared about him this much.
Perhaps she had been telling the truth when she said she would often visit his grave after he died.
That day, the dragon carried him to another renowned doctor.
The doctor stroked his white beard and said, “There is only one thing in this world that can save him.”
“What is it? Just tell me.”
“The Miscellaneous Records of Strange Scriptures states that a dragon horn can bring the dead back to life and restore flesh to bare bones. It can grant immunity to all poisons, prolong life, and preserve health. Of all dragon horns, the horn of an Azure Dragon is the most effective. What a pity. What a pity.”
The doctor shook his head, as though to say there was no chance a human could ever obtain a dragon horn for medical treatment, then closed the door.
Tang Woxue finally understood what the Nightmare Atavist was planning.
She intended to make Jing Pei cut off her own dragon horn to save him.
The plan made no sense.
How could that work?
She did not love him.
The love of his pursuers had never moved him, but he had seen the madness such feelings could inspire. He had even wondered whether his own willingness to give Yan Jinhua his heart might be another kind of love.
But the dragon and he were only friends.
He was nothing more than a friend as weak as an ant. How could his life be worth something as precious as a dragon horn?
At that moment, the fake Tang Woxue suddenly coughed up a mouthful of thick, dark blood.
The dragon’s face changed.
“My friend!”
She spun around and snatched up a gleaming dagger from the pile of firewood beside the doctor’s door, as if it had been left there for her to find.
A pair of pale pink, glowing dragon horns had already appeared on her head.
Tang Woxue’s pupils contracted.
What… was she doing?
“Just horns. If they can save my friend’s life, the trade is worth it. I am waiting for you to help me fulfill my dream—and I will never let you lose your life here.” Her gaze was open and sincere; the emotion flowing in it was nothing but pure friendship, untainted by even a hint of carnal desire.
Tang Woxue, you must understand that not every love is powerful enough to make someone sacrifice everything. Nor is every friendship tainted by selfish feelings.
Friendship can be more pure than familial love and more noble than romance. It can mean trusting someone with your back. It can mean giving up an arm without hesitation to save another person or even laying down your life for them.
The feelings it brings are free of pressure and filled with happiness. When such a friendship comes into your life, it is difficult to guard yourself against it.
And when it is lost, the pain is no different from losing your closest family or the person you hold most dear.
The dragon gripped the dagger and raised her hand toward her horn without hesitation.
At the same moment, the Nightmare Atavist switched from “Personality Surgery” mode to “Dream Slaughter” mode.
In the real world, dragon horns appeared from the head of the girl lying on the hospital bed.
Qiu Fa was one step away from entering the hospital lobby.
Before Tang Woxue’s disbelieving eyes, the dagger’s razor-sharp edge touched her horn.
She had put real strength behind the blade. Blood flowed at once.
Her brow tightened, and she drew in a soft breath. It seemed to hurt. Even for her, cutting off her own dragon horn would take effort.
The blood ran from her head and down the girl’s face.
For some reason, the sight was so painful to behold that tears spilled from Tang Woxue’s eyes.
“Stop!”
Tang Woxue’s mind went blank. The words burst from his mouth before he knew what he was doing.
“Nightmare Atavist, stop!”
He no longer wanted it.
He did not want the dragon horn anymore.
The corner of Jing Pei’s mouth curved into a faint smile.
The old lock had shattered.
A new lock had taken its place.
