Dream Ghost

The tail moved very lightly, like the wind rustling through the grass, stopping almost instantly. But Lin Ye's extended perception caught it—it wasn't an unconscious twitch, but a response. The wolf-like creature had heard his voice in its sleep, and its consciousness, in Lin Ye's perception, had become clearer, like a painting veiled by mist, now revealed with a small patch of true color after someone wiped it with their finger.

Lin Ye didn't move. He stood there, about twenty meters away from the three creatures huddled in the darkness, breathing softly and his heartbeat slow. The blue mark on his right palm was glowing—not the intense light of battle, but a soft, moonlit pale blue, seeping from between his fingers and spreading a small halo in the dark cave.

The wolf's tail twitched again. This time, not only its tail, but its ears also moved—pointed ears covered in short black fur, which turned halfway around its head, facing Lin Ye. It hadn't opened its eyes yet, but it had already "heard" him. Not with its ears, but with its consciousness. The bloodline aura emanating from Lin Ye, that frequency of consciousness passed down from generation to generation from Lin Yuanzhou, coexisting with the rules of dreams for three thousand years, flowed slowly in the darkness of the cave like an ancient lullaby.

"It recognizes you." Gu Yan's voice came from behind, very soft, but it still echoed faintly in the empty cave.

Lin Ye didn't turn around. He took a step forward. The gravel crunched softly under his feet, a sound exceptionally clear in the quiet cave. The wolf's ears twitched halfway around again, and its third tail emerged from beneath its body, slowly tracing an arc in the air. It wasn't a posture of attack, but rather—confirmation. It confirmed that the approaching person was not an enemy, not prey, not one of the strangers from the Dreamweaver Guild who bound it with runes and chains.

"I am a descendant of Lin Yuanzhou," Lin Ye repeated, his voice lower and steady than the first time. "He raised you three thousand years ago. He is still alive. He is waiting for you to come home."

The snake-like creature moved. Its head rose from its coiled body, the scales on its horns reflecting a dark green sheen in the dim light of the dome's crystals. Its eyes were closed, but its eyelids trembled, as if it were having a long dream, a dream in which a voice was calling its name. Its body was long, coiled into a large circle, its scales black, but edged with a thin ring of gold, like a knife scorched by flames.

Su Wanning's silver threads wove a thin net behind Lin Ye, not for defense, but for detection. Her threads could capture the most subtle fluctuations in consciousness—the three creatures' consciousness was shifting from "sleep" to "half-awake." Not the kind of half-awake that is startled awake, but the kind of half-awake that is awakened, like someone gently drawing back the curtains in the early morning, the light slowly, bit by bit falling on their faces.

The bird-like creature was the last to move. Its wings—if those two scaly, bat-like membranous flaps could even be called wings—opened slightly, then closed again. Its head was buried beneath its wings, obscuring its face, but its body rose and fell slowly, as if taking a deep breath. Its scales were gray, the same color as the cave walls; without close inspection, it would have been mistaken for a weathered rock.

Lin Ye took another step. Now he was only ten meters away from them. He could smell their scent—not the stench of wild beasts, but a more ancient, earthy aroma, like that of rain-soaked soil. Scroll-level dream creatures were no longer mere "condensations of fear"; they possessed their own consciousness, their own memories, their own physical forms, and even their own "smell." They existed somewhere between dream creatures and real life, like unfinished products left behind by the Creator when creating the world.

The wolf opened its eyes.

Its amber pupils shone like two small lamps in the darkness. It looked at Lin Ye, neither attacking, nor retreating, nor standing up. It simply lay there, its head resting on its front paws, its amber eyes quietly watching him. Its three tails gently patted the ground behind it, like a dog awaiting its master's command.

Lin Ye squatted down, extended his right hand, palm facing up. The blue mark reflected a tiny point of light in his amber pupils.

"Come here," he said.

The wolf looked at him, something shifting in its amber eyes. It wasn't that its wariness was fading, but rather that some ancient memory, etched deep within its consciousness, was being awakened. It remembered this aura. Three thousand years ago, an old man in a white robe had stroked its head with warm hands, fed it its first meal, and healed it with his consciousness when it was injured. That old man was Lin Yuanzhou. This young man possessed the exact same frequency of consciousness as him.

The wolf stood up. It was much larger than Lin Ye had expected—at least 1.5 meters tall at the shoulder, over 3 meters long, and each of its three tails was 2 meters long. Its fur was black, but it reflected a deep blue sheen in the light, like the summer night sky. It took two steps toward Lin Ye, lowered its head, and brought its nose close to Lin Ye's palm, sniffing it.

Then it licked his palm.

The rough tongue traced across his skin, leaving a warm, damp sensation. Lin Ye didn't pull his hand away. He looked at the wolf, and the wolf looked back at him, its amber pupils reflecting his face.

"You recognize me," Lin Ye said.

The wolf didn't answer. It couldn't speak. But it lowered its head and nuzzled against Lin Ye's chest. The movement was very light, but for a giant beast with a shoulder height of over 1.5 meters, this "lightness" itself was a great restraint—it was carefully controlling its strength, afraid of hurting this human who was much smaller than itself.

Lin Ye reached out and placed his hand on the wolf's head. The short black fur slipped between his fingers, carrying a warm temperature, like fabric dried in the sun. His mark shone even brighter, and a blue light seeped from his palm into the wolf's skull, as if some ancient language was communicating silently.

Su Wanning stood at a distance, watching this scene, the silver thread in her hand slowly drooping. Her expression changed from tension to surprise, and from surprise to tenderness. She had seen many dream creatures—fragment-level, book-page-level, chapter-level—but she had never seen a scroll-level creature actively approach a human. They were not pets; they were part of the rules themselves, products of fear and dreams, and they should not "recognize a master."

But this is only in recognition.

"Bloodline suppression." Gu Yan's voice was low. "It's not suppression, it's resonance. The Lin family's consciousness frequency and these creatures share the same origin. Three thousand years ago, when Lin Yuanzhou was taming them, he inscribed his own consciousness frequency into their rules. From then on, everyone in the Lin family is their 'master' in their eyes."

The snake and the bird also woke up.

The snake's head rose fully from its coiled body, the scales on its horns shimmering in the crystalline light. Its eyes were golden, with vertical pupils like two polished copper coins. It looked at Lin Ye, neither attacking nor approaching. Its body began to move slowly, the scales rustling against the ground like autumn leaves rustling in the wind on a stone path. It moved a few meters toward Lin Ye, then stopped, tilting its head to one side as if sizing him up.

The bird removed its wings from its head, revealing a face that didn't resemble a bird at all. Its face was more like that of a reptile that had gone astray in the course of evolution—it had no beak, a short, wide nose, deep red eyes with horizontal pupils. Its body was covered in gray scales, and its wing membranes were translucent, revealing dark red blood vessels inside. It stood up, about two meters tall, with a wingspan of at least five meters. It didn't cry out; it simply stood there, its deep red eyes fixed on Lin Ye.

All three scroll-level creatures woke up. They were all looking at him.

Lin Ye stood up. The wolf took a step back, but didn't go far, standing right beside him with its three tails swaying gently behind it. He looked at the snake and the bird, then opened his arms, palms facing up.

"You all come over here too," he said.

The snake and the bird exchanged a glance. Their consciousness communicated silently—not through language, but through a resonance at the level of rules. A few seconds later, the snake began to move, its body undulating across the ground, its scales rustling. It crawled to Lin Ye, stopped, and raised its head, its golden vertical pupils staring at his face. Then, slowly, inch by inch, it lowered its head, finally resting it against Lin Ye's calf, like a giant, horned dog.

The bird was the last. It hesitated for a long time, its deep red eyes scanning back and forth between Lin Ye, the wolf, and the snake. Then it took a step forward, and another, and another. It reached Lin Ye, lowered its head, and gently touched Lin Ye's shoulder with the tip of its nose. The movement was so light it was almost imperceptible, but it left a faint, warm mark on Lin Ye's shoulder—not a wound, but a mark of consciousness. It was marking him, just as he had marked them.

Lin Ye looked at the three giant beasts, watching them surround him like three pets long abandoned by their owner, finally awaiting their arrival. His nose tingled, but he didn't cry. He reached out and placed his hands on the snake's head and the bird's head simultaneously. The snake's scales were cool, like stones at the bottom of a river; the bird's scales were warm, like tiles dried in the sun.

"I will devour you all," Lin Ye said.

The three creatures simultaneously looked up at him.

"I'm not killing you. I'm absorbing your power into myself, making you one with me. You won't disappear; you'll become a part of me. When I'm strong enough, I'll release you back."

The wolf tilted its head, its amber eyes holding an expression Lin Ye couldn't decipher. It wasn't sadness, nor fear, but an ancient understanding that had transcended countless ages. It rested its chin on Lin Ye's shoulder, its warm breath brushing against his neck, making a soft, sigh-like sound.

The snake coiled its head around Lin Ye's arm, its golden vertical pupils closing. The bird spread one wing, covering Lin Ye's back, its gray scales gleaming faintly with gold in the blue markings.

They agree.

Lin Ye closed his eyes, extending his perception to its limit. His consciousness was like a net, simultaneously enveloping the rule structures of three scroll-level creatures—the wolf's rule was "tracking," the snake's rule was "entanglement," and the bird's rule was "concealment." Three different rules, three different forces, but in his perception, they were like three rivers, ultimately flowing into the same ocean.

That vast ocean is the frequency of consciousness that Lin Yuanzhou inscribed into their rules three thousand years ago.

Exactly the same as his.

"Begin," Lin Ye said softly.

His mark erupted with intense blue light. The light surged forth like a tide, engulfing the wolves, snakes, and birds, drowning the darkness of the cave, and submerging the dim crystals on the dome. Su Wanning shielded his eyes with his arm; Gu Yan's consciousness projection became almost transparent in this blue light.

The wolf's body began to blur. Its three tails, short black fur, and amber eyes gradually turned into blue specks of light, like fireflies on a summer night, drifting towards Lin Ye's palm.

The snake's body began to blur. Its horns, scales, and golden vertical pupils turned into dark green specks of light, intertwining with blue light like two rivers of different colors merging.

The bird's body began to blur. Its wings, deep red eyes, and gray scales turned into dark red specks of light, merging into the forming, colorful radiance.

Three scroll-like creatures, three beams of light, three colors, simultaneously surged into the mark in Lin Ye's palm.

[Devouring—]

[Target: Scroll-class Shadow Wolf]

[Rule parsing in progress - Success]

[Gained Ability: Tracking (Can lock onto the consciousness traces of any target within a 1000-meter radius)]

[Fragment Evolution: Chapter-level (38%) → Chapter-level (52%)]

[Residual consciousness: 7.1% → 13.4%]

[Target: Scroll-level Entangling Python]

[Rule parsing in progress - Success]

[Gain Ability: Mind Binding (Can bind the target with mind; duration depends on the level difference between the two parties)]

[Fragment Evolution: Chapter-level (52%) → Chapter-level (68%)]

[Residual consciousness: 13.4% → 19.2%]

[Target: Roller-type Sky-Covering Eagle]

[Rule parsing in progress - Success]

[Gained Ability: Rule Concealment (Can conceal one's own or others' rule traces within a certain range, avoiding detection)]

[Fragment Evolution: Chapter Level (68%) → Scroll Level (3%)]

[Residual consciousness: 19.2% → 26.8%]

[Warning: Residual consciousness exceeds the safety threshold (20%). It is recommended to stop devouring immediately.]

Lin Ye didn't stop. He watched the last bit of dark red light merge into his palm, watched the mark change from blue to purple—a chapter-level blue, a scroll-level purple. The color was very faint, so faint that it was almost indistinguishable from blue, but it had indeed changed. Like the first glimpse of purple in the sky before dawn, fleeting, but you knew that day was approaching.

A flood of images rushed into his mind. The wolf's memories—every day it spent in the First Seal for three thousand years: darkness, silence, and waiting. The snake's memories—it coiled in the corner of the cave, counting the crystals on the ceiling, one by one, countless times. The bird's memories—it spread its wings and flew through the cave, but the ceiling was too low; it could not fly high, never could.

Three thousand years. For three thousand years, he was imprisoned in this dark cave, waiting for someone who would never return.

Lin Ye knelt on the ground, his hands supporting him, gasping for breath. His consciousness was overwhelmed by the remnants of the three creatures—not fear, but loneliness. The kind of loneliness that had lasted for three thousand years, without end, where even time had lost its meaning. Tears welled up in his eyes, dripping onto the dark gravel with a soft sound.

Su Wanning ran over and knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his back. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady.

"Lin Ye, can you hear me?"

Lin Ye nodded. He couldn't speak, but his mind was still functioning. He could hear Su Wanning's voice, feel the warmth of her hand, and smell the scent of earth after the rain in the cave. He was still there. He hadn't been overwhelmed by the remnants.

"Put them aside." Su Wanning's voice was very soft, as if she were coaxing a child who had a nightmare. "Don't resist them, and don't let them take you away. They are just memories, not yours. You are Lin Ye, you are not them."

Lin Ye closed his eyes and mentally pushed the three clusters of memories aside. Not to erase them, but to store them. He built three "rooms" in his consciousness, locking the memories of the wolf, snake, and bird inside, and locking the doors. The doors weren't completely locked—he knew that one day he would need to open these doors, thoroughly digest these memories, and make them a part of himself. But not now. Right now, he only needed them to not interfere with his judgment.

He opened his eyes and wiped away the tears on his face. Su Wanning's hand was still on his back, not removed.

"I'm fine," he said.

You always say you're fine.

"This time it's for real."

Su Wanning looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears, but they didn't fall. She removed her hand from his back, stood up, turned around, and pretended to look at the cave's dome.

Gu Yan walked over and glanced at the purple mark on Lin Ye's palm.

"Three percent of the scroll level," he said. "You're still far from being a Dream Realm Overlord, but you're already much stronger than when you arrived. Your current level is about the same as Chen Xuan's."

"Not enough." Lin Ye stood up and cracked his knuckles. "The core members of the Dream Weaver Society are at least at the Dream Domain Ruler level. I'm one major realm short."

"Then let's level up again," Gu Yan said, "but not today. There's nearly 27% of your consciousness remaining; absorbing anything else will cause it to explode. Go back first, digest it all, and then come back."

Lin Ye nodded. He took the black anchor point out of his pocket and held it in his palm. The anchor point was no longer hot; it had completed its mission—to bring him here and lead him to the three creatures. Now it lay quietly in his palm, like an ordinary, rounded black stone.

"Let's go," he said.

He activated the anchor point. A white light engulfed everything.

When they returned to the association headquarters, it was still dark. The blue light of the teleportation array slowly faded beneath their feet, and the temperature of the rune array dropped from scorching to lukewarm. Zhou Zhou, who had been dozing at the control panel, was startled awake by the noise. He adjusted his glasses, saw that all three of them had returned safely, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"How is it?" he asked.

Lin Ye raised his right hand, and the purple mark on his palm flashed briefly in the dim light of the teleportation array.

Zhou Zhou stared at the mark for three seconds, then turned his head and typed a line on the keyboard. The data on the screen began to refresh. His mouth slowly opened, and his glasses almost slipped off his nose.

"Roll...scroll level?"

"Three percent," Lin Ye said.

"When you left, you were at 38% of the Chapter level. You were gone for a day—no, less than twelve hours. You rose by nearly 65%, and even crossed a major realm." Zhou Zhou's voice grew louder, waking the technician who was dozing in the chair next to him. "What did you absorb? Three Scroll-level techniques?"

"Um."

Zhou Zhou opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, and finally only said one sentence: "I want to apply for a raise."

Lin Ye stepped out of the teleportation array, walked through the corridor, and headed towards the medical room. His steps were more steady than when he set out, not because he wasn't tired, but because the power of three scroll-level creatures was surging within him. That power didn't seem like something external; it was more like an instinct he had always possessed, only awakened today.

He pushed open the door to the medical room.

Lin Yuanzhou was awake. He was leaning against the bed, a pillow behind his back, holding a cup of hot water, which he was slowly drinking. When he saw Lin Ye come in, he put down the cup and his gaze fell on Lin Ye's raised right hand.

A purple mark.

The old man looked at it for a long time, then smiled. It wasn't a smile of relief, nor a smile of bitterness, but a smile of "I knew it would be like this"—a smile with a hint of pride, a hint of emotion, and a hint of indescribable relief, as if he could finally let go of something.

"Do they recognize you?" he asked.

"I accept it." Lin Ye walked to the bedside and sat down in a chair. "They remember you."

The old man's eyes lit up, as if a breeze had blown through the ashes, revealing the still-glowing embers beneath.

"Are they... alright?"

"Very good," Lin Ye said. "They're with me."

He placed his hand on his chest, the purple mark on his palm radiating a faint warmth through his clothes. The old man looked at that spot, his lips trembling slightly, but he didn't cry. He reached out and pressed his hand against Lin Ye's through the clothes. The aged, wrinkled hand and the young, bony hand, separated by a thin layer of fabric, both pressed against the same spot—the place where the three scroll-level creatures slept, the end point of three thousand years of waiting.

"Thank you," the old man said.

"You're welcome," Lin Ye said. "You're family."

Outside the window, dawn broke. The first rays of morning light streamed through the window and fell on the hands of two people. The aged hand and the young hand, bathed in the same light, quietly and warmly intertwined.