Dream Ghost

When Lin Ye returned to his room, it was already broad daylight. He didn't have the habit of going back to sleep, so he washed his face, changed into clean clothes, and went to the medical room.

The elderly man—Lin Yuanzhou—lay on the bed in the medical room, his body covered in sensor patches connected to the instrument Lin Ye was already familiar with. The waveform on the screen was much more stable than yesterday; although there were still some irregular fluctuations, the overall trend was upward. Dr. Jiang stood by the bed, holding a clipboard and recording data.

"How many times did he wake up last night?" Lin Ye asked.

"Three times," Dr. Jiang said. "Each time he only woke up for a few minutes, said a few words, and then fell asleep again. It wasn't a coma, it was normal sleep. His body was repairing itself and needed plenty of rest."

"What did he say?"

Dr. Jiang flipped through the records.

"The first time he asked, 'Where is this?' I told him it was the Nightmare Hunters' Guild, and he nodded, saying, 'The Night Watch is still here.' The second time he asked, 'What year is it now?' I told him it was 2024, and he was silent for a long time before saying, 'Three thousand years.' The third time—"

She paused for a moment.

The third time, he asked, "Where is that child surnamed Lin?"

Lin Ye walked to the bedside and looked at the aged, wrinkled face. Lin Yuanzhou's hair was completely white, not the graying of old age, but a thorough white washed away by time. His eyebrows were also white, his eyelashes were white, and his whole person looked like a sketch painted with white paint on a gray canvas.

Lin Ye sat down on the chair next to the bed.

"When will he be fully awake?"

"It's hard to say." Dr. Jiang put down the clipboard. "Physically, he has passed the most dangerous stage. Consciously, he needs time to adapt. Three thousand years is a very long time. His consciousness has become accustomed to the state of 'having ninety percent removed,' and now that it has suddenly all returned, it's like a person who has lived in darkness for a long time suddenly seeing the sunlight—he needs to adapt slowly."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Yes. When he woke up for the third time, he kept calling your name. He probably has something he wants to tell you."

Lin Ye nodded. Dr. Jiang walked out of the medical room and gently closed the door behind her.

Only Lin Ye and Lin Yuanzhou remained in the room. The hum of the instruments was exceptionally clear in the quiet room, like a tireless bee buzzing in a glass bottle. Lin Ye leaned back in his chair, looking at the old man's face. That face bore some resemblance to his father, Lin Yuan—the arch of his brow bone, the height of his nose, the lines of his chin. But Lin Yuan's face was more rugged, more like it had been carved by a knife; while Lin Yuanzhou's face was softer, more like a stone polished by the flow of time.

"You don't look like your father."

Lin Ye was taken aback.

The old man opened his eyes. His eyes were dark brown, with large pupils like two bottomless wells. He looked at Lin Ye, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly—not a smile, but an expression that said, "I know what you're thinking."

How did you know I was thinking about my father?

"Because the way you look at me is the same way you looked at him when he was a child." The old man's voice was still hoarse, but much clearer than yesterday. "Your father also liked to stare at my face when he was a child, wondering if he looked like me. He did. You don't really look like me. You look more like your mother."

Lin Ye had never met his mother. She died before he was born—in an accident, Chen Xuan said. But Lin Ye always felt it wasn't an accident; he just never had any proof.

"What kind of person was my mother?" he asked.

The old man was silent for a few seconds, as if recalling something from a long time ago.

"Your mother's name was Shen Ruo. She wasn't a descendant of the Night Watch, nor was she a dreamer. She was just an ordinary woman, an ordinary university teacher who taught ancient literature. Your father was injured during a mission, his consciousness was damaged, and he was sent to her city to recuperate. They met in a bookstore. Your father said that he was looking for an ancient text about dreams, but he couldn't find it anywhere in the bookstore. Just as he was about to leave, your mother took out an old book from behind the counter and said, 'Is this the one you're looking for?' That book was a notebook written by a Night Watchman a thousand years ago, and only three copies remain in the world. Your mother didn't know the value of that book; she just thought it was old and beautiful, and bought it from a flea market for five yuan."

Lin Ye listened without saying a word.

"Your father said that at that moment he knew this was the person he wanted to spend his life with." The old man's voice grew softer, as if he were telling a story he had told many times before. "They were together for three years. During those three years, your father didn't tell her his true identity. She only knew that he was someone who 'did special work,' frequently traveled for work, and was often injured. She never asked. She knew that asking wouldn't get her an answer, so she chose not to ask."

"How did she die?"

The old man's gaze shifted from Lin Ye's face to the ceiling.

"The Dream Weavers," he said. "They found out your father's identity, and they also found out about your mother. They wanted to use her to blackmail your father into handing over the fragments. Your father didn't hand them over; he went to the Dream Continent, trying to reinforce the seal with himself in exchange for the Dream Weavers releasing your mother. But after he left, the Dream Weavers still found her."

"They killed her?"

"No. They extracted her consciousness." The old man's voice was calm, but Lin Ye could hear the unfathomable pain beneath the calm. "Her consciousness wasn't very complete, only about thirty percent. The Dream Weavers didn't use her as a sacrifice, but only as leverage to blackmail your father. After your father learned about this while inside the seal, his consciousness almost collapsed. But he held on. Because he knew that if your mother were still alive—even if she only had thirty percent of her consciousness left—there was a chance to save her."

Lin Ye clenched his fists around his knees.

Where is her consciousness now?

"I don't know," the old man said. "After she took control of me, I was controlled by the Dream Weavers. For the next thirty years, I received no information from the outside world. But your father said she wasn't destroyed. The Dream Weavers kept her in a cabinet in some processing plant, along with other fragments of consciousness."

Lin Ye stood up and walked to the window.

The sky outside the window was a bright blue, with a few white clouds drifting lazily by. The distant city skyline shimmered in the sunlight, like a forest built of glass and steel.

"I will find her," he said.

The old man looked at him for a long time.

“You said the same thing as your father,” he said. “Your father stood at this window—not this one, but in a similar spot—looking out at the sky, and said, ‘I will find her.’ Then he went to the Dream Continent and never came back.”

Lin Ye turned around.

"I will not repeat his mistakes."

The old man didn't say "you can" or "you can't." He just looked at Lin Ye and then slowly nodded.

"Your fragment level is now 38% of the chapter level?" he asked.

"right."

"Too low." The old man's tone suddenly became like a teacher evaluating a student's homework. "At your current level, you wouldn't last three minutes against the core strength of the Dream Weaver Society."

"I know."

"You need to advance to the reel level. Only at least the early reel level are you qualified to confront them head-on."

"How do I get promoted?"

"Devour," the old man said, "but not those low-level dream creatures. You need to devour scroll-level creatures. At least three. That's enough to push the fragment level from chapter to scroll."

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

"Do you know where I can find scroll-sized creatures?"

The old man looked at him, and for the first time, a genuine smile appeared on his lips—not one of relief, not one of bitterness, but a sly smile, like that of an old fox eyeing its prey.

"I know there are three in the fourth processing plant," he said.

"The fourth processing plant has self-destructed."

"What self-destructed was the 'factory.' Those creatures were moved before they were suppressed," the old man said. "Could Dreamweaver have put three scroll-level creatures in the same basket? They moved those creatures to another location before the self-destruct program was activated."

"Where?"

"The First Seal".

Lin Ye was taken aback.

"Hasn't the first seal already collapsed?"

"What collapsed was the 'outer shell' of the seal. The seal itself—that rule field—is still there. It's just that no one is maintaining it anymore," the old man said. "The first seal is located on the outermost layer of the Dream Continent, even further than the Forest of Fear. There is a ruin there, and beneath the ruins is a dungeon. The Dream Weavers built a temporary storage point there and transferred those three scroll-level creatures there."

How did you know?

"Because one of those three creatures was raised by me." The old man's tone was calm, as if he were talking about something very ordinary. "Three thousand years ago, I was the leader of the Night Watch. I was responsible for taming dream creatures, studying their rules, and then using their rules to strengthen the seal. Those three scroll-level creatures were raised by me from infancy to adulthood. They won't attack me. But they will attack anyone but me."

Lin Ye looked into the old man's eyes.

"You want me to devour them."

"I want you to give it a try," the old man said. "If you can devour a scroll-level creature, your fragment level will reach the peak of the chapter. If you devour two, you can break through to the scroll level. If you devour all three—you will become the first dreamer in nearly a thousand years to advance from a dreamer to the scroll level within three months."

"What about the risks?"

"The residual consciousness of a scroll-level creature is ten times stronger than that of a chapter-level creature. If you swallow one, your residual consciousness may soar to over 15%. If you swallow two, 30%. If you swallow three—your consciousness may be overwhelmed by the memories of those creatures, turning you into someone who can't distinguish whether they are Lin Ye or a dream creature."

Lin Ye did not speak.

"But you have something that other dreamers don't have," the old man said.

"What?"

"Bloodline." The old man looked at him. "You are a descendant of the Lin family. The Lin family has dealt with dream creatures for generations. There is an innate affinity in your consciousness for the rules of dreams. This affinity will not make you immune to residual consciousness, but it will allow you to digest residual consciousness much faster than others."

"How much faster?"

"It would take an average person about a week to digest one percent of the residue. You—you'd probably need a day."

Lin Ye did the math in his head. If he swallowed a scroll-level creature, the residue would rise to 15%, and he would need about two weeks to digest it. If he swallowed three, the residue would rise to 45%, and he would need a month and a half.

"Time isn't the problem," he said. "The problem is, how do I find the first seal?"

The old man reached under his pillow and pulled something out.

A coin-sized, black metal plate engraved with runes. It was very similar to the black anchor Lin Ye had obtained from Chen Xuan, but the runes on it were different—not crescent-shaped eyes, but a bird with outstretched wings.

"This is the anchor point I used back then," the old man said. "It records the coordinates of the first seal. Activate it, and it will take you directly to the core of the first seal."

Lin Ye took the anchor point and held it in his palm.

The metal sheet was cool, but not in a cold way; it was a deep, lingering coolness, like the coolness of a stone that had been submerged at the bottom of a river for a long time. The moment his senses reached the anchor point, an image flashed through his mind—a ruin, with gray-white stones piled up like small hills. In the center of the ruins was a downward-facing entrance, with a stone pillar on each side of the entrance, engraved with the same curved runes as those inside the pyramids.

The First Seal.

Lin Ye put the anchor point into his pocket.

"When do I leave?"

"Wait until you're ready," the old man said. "Don't rush. Rushing will make you make mistakes. Making mistakes will kill you."

He closed his eyes, as if he had exhausted too much energy and needed to rest.

Lin Ye stood up and walked to the door.

"Lin Yuanzhou," he called out the old man's name.

The old man opened his eyes.

"Thank you for telling me this."

The old man's lips twitched slightly.

"You're my family," he said. "You're welcome."

Lin Ye walked out of the medical room and gently closed the door.

In the corridor, Chen Xuan leaned against the wall, holding a glass of water, waiting for him.

"Did he tell you everything?" Chen Xuan asked.

"I already said. The first seal. Three scroll-level creatures."

Chen Xuan took a sip of water and remained silent for a few seconds.

"You want to go?"

"think."

"I'll go with you."

"No," Lin Ye said. "Your body hasn't recovered yet. Besides, the association needs you to oversee things. The mole is still there, and the Dreamweavers could act at any time."

"So you're going alone?"

"I brought Gu Yan's consciousness projection with me. His projection has almost recovered. And Su Wanning—her debris identification is very useful in the ruins."

Chen Xuan stared at him for a long time.

"You're becoming more and more like your father," he said.

"In which aspect?"

"I never listen to other people's opinions when making decisions."

Lin Ye looked at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"You haven't heard of it either," he said.

Chen Xuan paused for a moment, then smiled—not a bitter smile, not a smile of relief, but a smile tinged with helplessness, the kind of smile that comes from having one's weakness exposed by a junior.

"Go," he said, "but promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Come back alive."

Lin Ye nodded.

He turned and walked to the end of the corridor, where the morning light shone through the window, spreading a golden glow behind him.

The black anchor in my pocket was slightly warm.

It's like a heart that has been dormant for a long time, finally starting to beat again.