Dream Ghost

As the blue light of the teleportation array faded beneath his feet, Lin Ye's first reaction wasn't to open his eyes, but to extend his senses. Within a 200-meter radius, there were no abnormal fluctuations in consciousness. The air on the third basement level of the association headquarters smelled of disinfectant and coffee. Zhou Zhou was dozing at his console, several data interfaces still lit up on the keyboard. Everything was normal. He opened his eyes. Shen Heting stood beside him, his body even paler than on the fourth level, like a sketch washed clean. The energy provided by the fourth level's rule of "possession" was waning; his temporary vessel wouldn't last much longer.

"Zhou Zhou." Lin Ye called out to the dozing technician, "Prepare for consciousness carrier matching. Shen Heting, male, 68 years old, descendant of the Night Watchers, consciousness integrity 83%."

Zhou Zhou sprang up from his chair, his glasses nearly flying off. He glanced at Shen Heting, then at Lin Ye, his mouth opened slightly, then closed again, his fingers already flying across the keyboard. "Matching. The database contains the consciousness signature codes of 3,762 brain-dead patients. Matching will take... fifteen minutes."

"Hurry up."

"We can't go any faster. Any faster and we'll leak something." Zhou Zhou pushed up his glasses, his eyes scanning the screen rapidly. "Shen Heting's consciousness signature is very special; it has the mark of a descendant of the Night's Watch. This kind of mark is very rare in the database, making it difficult to match."

Su Wanning stepped out of the teleportation array, the silver threads already retracted from her fingertips. Her face was somewhat pale; maintaining seven cocoons and a rule-based vacuum cage had consumed a great deal of her mental energy, but her steps were steady. She walked to Lin Ye's side, saying nothing, simply standing there, watching the progress bar on the screen with him.

10%. 30%. 60%. 90%.

hundred percent.

"Match found." Zhou Zhou's voice trembled slightly. "Provincial People's Hospital, ICU, male, 67 years old, brain dead for three months. Consciousness feature code match rate of 91%. Above the safety threshold."

Lin Ye turned to look at Shen Heting. The old man stared at the stranger's name and photo on the screen—an ordinary old man, with gray hair, slightly overweight, and age spots on his face. His body was gone, but his consciousness remained. An empty shell, waiting to be infused with a new soul.

"Are you willing?" Lin Ye asked.

Shen Heting stared at the photo for a long time.

"What's his name?"

"Zhou Demao. Retired teacher. Suffered cerebral hemorrhage and has been in a vegetative state for three months. His family has agreed to donate his body."

Shen Heting's lips twitched slightly.

"Teacher Zhou, what do you teach?"

"It's not written in the file."

"I'll teach you anything." Shen Heting reached out and pressed his hand on the screen, as if patting the stranger on the shoulder through the screen. "Old Zhou, I'll borrow your body for a few years. I'll return it to you once I find my own body."

Lin Ye didn't say "it might not be found." Some things don't need to be said.

Su Wanning had already taken out her phone and dialed the number for the Provincial People's Hospital. Her voice was calm, and she spoke quickly, explaining the situation in a few words—using the association's specialized terminology such as "special case," "emergency transfer," and "confidentiality agreement." The other party had obviously handled similar cases before and hung up without asking any further questions.

"The body will be transferred to the association's medical center in three hours." Su Wanning put away his phone. "Dr. Jiang is already making preparations."

Lin Ye nodded. He turned and walked towards the medical room, but after a few steps, he realized that Shen Heting hadn't followed. The old man stood there, staring at the runes of the teleportation array, the gray-white light casting dappled shadows on his face.

"Grandpa?"

Shen Heting didn't answer. He squatted down, stretched out his hand, and traced the silver lines on the rune array with his fingers. The lines weren't engraved, but embedded—metal wires coiled into intricate patterns on the stone slab, like a tree, a river, or a person's fingerprint.

"This was drawn by Lin Yuanzhou," Shen Heting said. "Three thousand years ago, the first generation of Night Watchmen built this teleportation array. Every stroke was carved by hand. There were no machines, no tools, only consciousness and rules. They would carve one stroke and then rest for three days. It took three years to complete this teleportation array."

Lin Ye walked to his side and squatted down.

How did you know?

"Your father told me. He said that when Lin Yuanzhou was carving the last stroke, his hand was too weak to lift. His son supported him and helped him finish. Your great-grandfather." Shen Heting stood up and looked at Lin Ye. "Your great-grandfather's name was Lin Yuanqiao. Lin Yuanzhou's son. Your father's grandfather. He didn't enter the World Tree; he guarded it outside. He guarded it his whole life."

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

Have you seen him?

"I met him once. When I was fourteen, your great-grandfather was one hundred and thirty-seven. He was sitting in a wheelchair, his hands were still trembling, but his eyes were bright. He looked at me and said, 'Are you a child of the Shen family?' I said yes. He said, 'The bloodline of the Shen family is no less than that of the Lin family. Train hard and help your maternal grandfather in the future.'" Shen Heting's lips curled up slightly. "That was the only sentence he ever said to me. I've remembered it for fifty-four years."

The door to the medical room was open, and Dr. Jiang was preparing the equipment. The consciousness carrier matching surgery required precise procedures; it wasn't simply a matter of pouring consciousness in—it required separating Shen Heting's consciousness from the fourth-layer rule carrier and then implanting it into Zhou Demao's brain-dead body. Two steps; if either went wrong, the consciousness would dissipate.

Shen Heting lay on the hospital bed, a sensor patch attached to his head, connected to the machine Lin Ye was already familiar with. The waveform on the screen was very stable, much more so than when he had just left the fourth floor. Dr. Jiang adjusted the parameters at the control panel, her fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard, without even looking up.

"The surgery will take two hours. There can be no interruptions," she said. "Lin Ye, you go outside and wait."

Lin Ye did not move.

"I'm here."

"If you stay here, his consciousness will be distracted. Your consciousness frequency is too close to his, and they will interfere with each other." Dr. Jiang looked up at him. "He can only concentrate if you go out. You also need to rest. Your remaining consciousness is 22%, which is close to the danger line."

Su Wanning walked over and tugged at his sleeve.

"Let's go. Come back in two hours."

Lin Ye glanced at Shen Heting on the bed. The old man's eyes were closed, his breathing steady, as if he were asleep. His temporary body had become even fainter than before, almost transparent. Two hours later, he would become the body of a retired teacher. Sixty-seven years old, slightly overweight, with age spots on his face. No longer the thin, gray-robed night watchman. But his consciousness was still his, his memories were still his, he was still Shen Heting. His face had changed, his body had changed, but he was still there.

Lin Ye turned and walked out of the medical room, sitting down on a bench in the corridor. Su Wanning sat down next to him, took a piece of chocolate from her pocket, unwrapped it, and handed it to him.

"Have something to eat. You only had one cup of coffee today."

Lin Ye took the chocolate and took a bite. It was sweet with a hint of bitterness, slowly melting on his tongue. He chewed a few times, swallowed, and took another bite.

"You eat too."

"I'm not hungry."

"You didn't eat either."

Su Wanning looked at him for two seconds, then broke off a small piece of chocolate from his hand and put it in her mouth.

"It's bitter," she said.

"Dark chocolate, 70%."

"I'll buy milk next time."

"There won't be a next time. Just this one."

Su Wanning didn't speak again. She leaned on his shoulder, not out of coquetry, but because she was tired. Maintaining seven cocoons and a rule-based vacuum cage was more exhausting than she had anticipated. Although her consciousness had recovered to 58%, it was still not stable enough. High-intensity combat would exacerbate the fluctuations in her consciousness, and she needed rest.

Lin Ye didn't move. He let her lean on him; the weight on his shoulder was light, like a cat resting its chin there. The emergency lights in the corridor cast a dim yellow glow, casting their shadows on the floor, one overlapping the other.

Autumn leaves slept on Lin Ye's wrist. The gray veins were almost invisible in the light, but Lin Ye could feel them—like a faint, yet not yet extinguished, star. It would occasionally flash in its sleep, very slowly, like someone turning over in bed.

Two hours.

Lin Ye closed his eyes, but didn't sleep. His consciousness was active, not voluntarily, but "automatically"—the World Tree's perception was still running in the background, like a radar that never shuts down. He sensed the World Tree's condition: the trunk was stable, the canopy lush, and the cracks deep within the roots hadn't widened. That gray-green consciousness—the negative aspect of the first generation of Night Watchers—had left, but the cracks remained. Like a stitched wound, the stitches were still there, but the scar wouldn't disappear.

He sensed the sixth fragment. Within him, it merged with Lin Yuanshan's consciousness, like two drops of water merging into one. The fragment's rule structure was more complex than he had imagined; it wasn't a single ability, but a "repository"—containing all the rule knowledge Lin Yuanshan had accumulated over three thousand years. Every symbol, every rule, every method of analysis was encoded within the fragment's crystalline structure. Lin Ye tried to read a small segment, and an image immediately flooded his consciousness—Lin Yuanshan standing beneath the World Tree, holding a branch, drawing symbols on the ground. A circle, a vertical line, a dot. He drew it countless times, fine-tuning each time—the size of the circle, the length of the vertical line, the position of the dot. He was studying the most fundamental structure of the rules, like a mathematician studying axioms.

The image disappeared. Lin Ye opened his eyes. The corridor lights were still dim, and Su Wanning was still leaning on his shoulder, breathing lightly. He glanced down at the autumn leaf on his wrist; the gray patterns remained unchanged. He closed his eyes and continued reading.

The second scene. Lin Yuanshan stands in a room with bookshelves on all four walls, exactly the same as the one he saw in Zhao Lin's dream. He pulls a book from the shelf, opens it, and finds not words, but symbols. He reads slowly, turning the pages one by one, occasionally pausing to copy with a brush onto a piece of paper beside him. His handwriting is beautiful, each stroke powerful. He is learning. Learning the rules and knowledge left behind by the Night Watchmen, even older than himself. That knowledge was written on leaves, animal hides, bamboo slips, and paper, passed down from generation to generation for three thousand years.

The third scene. Lin Yuanshan has grown old. His hair is white, his back is hunched, and his hands are trembling. But he is still writing. He has compiled all his knowledge into a notebook, the cover of which bears four characters—"Rules of Dreams." The characters are large, filling the entire cover, each stroke forceful, as if carved into stone. He places the notebook on the bookshelf, among books older than himself. Then he turns and walks out of the room.

The image cut off. Lin Ye didn't read any further. He stored that knowledge in a corner of his consciousness, alongside his father's memories and Qiu Ye's rules. His consciousness was like a warehouse, overflowing with things. Some were his own, some were left there by others. He needed time to organize them, but he didn't have time now. He closed the warehouse door, planning to open it again when he had time later.

Two hours have passed.

The door to the medical room opened. Dr. Jiang came out, took off her mask, and her face was expressionless. Lin Ye stood up, and Su Wanning also stood up.

"The surgery was successful," Dr. Jiang said. "The patient's level of consciousness is 83%, consistent with pre-operative levels. Her bodily functions are stable, and she is expected to wake up in six hours."

Lin Ye entered the medical room. Shen Heting—no, he should be called Zhou Demao now—lay on the hospital bed. A slightly chubby face, graying hair, and age spots on his cheekbones and forehead. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. The green waveform on the electrocardiogram monitor pulsed rhythmically. Lin Ye stood by the bed for a while, looking at that unfamiliar face. He knew that beneath that skin was Shen Heting. Consciousness was there, memories were there, the person was there. The face wasn't important, the body wasn't important, what mattered was that he was still there. He was still there.

"I'll come see you again tomorrow," Lin Ye said.

The waveform on the electrocardiogram monitor jumped. It wasn't abnormal; it was a "response." Shen Heting heard it.

Lin Ye walked out of the medical room and ran into Chen Xuan in the corridor. He was leaning against the wall, holding a glass of water, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

"Zhou Zhou told me about Shen Heting's matter." Chen Xuan took a sip of water. "How do you plan to explain this to the association?"

"Explain what?"

"Explain how you single-handedly took down seven core members of the Dreamweavers and escaped unscathed, even bringing back a Night Watchman with 83% of his consciousness intact. Headquarters has already taken notice. Not in a good way, but rather 'concern.' They want to know how you did it."

"Tell them the truth."

"The truth? 'I have two fragments, a negative consciousness from three thousand years ago, and the bloodline resonance of a scroll-level creature?'" Chen Xuan put down his water glass. "Those people at headquarters won't see you as a hero; they'll see you as 'something.' Something that needs to be studied, controlled, and used."

Lin Ye looked at him.

"You think so too?"

Chen Xuan remained silent for a few seconds.

"I am not. But I don't speak for everyone."

Lin Ye leaned against the wall, standing side by side with Chen Xuan. The emergency lights in the corridor cast a dim yellow light, casting their shadows on the floor, one tall and one short, like two trees standing very close together.

"Then I won't let them know," Lin Ye said.

"You can't hide it. They already have the data. The usage records of the teleportation array, the monitoring data of consciousness fluctuations, the residual rules from the battle. Every time you use your ability, you leave a trace. Those traces can be analyzed, reconstructed, and copied."

"Copy?"

"Yes. Copying. Your rule writing, rule weaving, and consciousness entanglement are not unique. Given enough data, they can train dreamers with abilities similar to yours. Not through fragments, but through technology."

Lin Ye's fingers tightened slightly.

"Then why haven't they done it yet?"

"Because there isn't enough data. Your abilities are too complex, involving multiple layers of rules. Existing analysis techniques can only reconstruct the surface, not the underlying layers." Chen Xuan looked at him. "But with each battle, you provide them with new data. Today, you fought seven members of the Dream Weavers, simultaneously maintaining three rules in your rule writing, covering seven targets with your rule weaving, and precisely controlling the 0.5-second time difference with your consciousness entanglement. The association headquarters has already obtained this data."

Lin Ye fell silent. He hadn't considered this. He thought the association headquarters was an ally, a support, someone he could trust. But Chen Xuan was right—those people at headquarters wouldn't see him as a hero; they'd see him as "something." A sample that could be studied, analyzed, and replicated.

"Then what should we do?" he asked.

"Keep getting stronger. Stronger than they can't replicate. Stronger than they dare not touch you. Stronger than you are, you are not a 'thing,' you are the 'rules' themselves." Chen Xuan straightened up and patted his shoulder. "You're currently at 47% of the scroll level. Once you reach the Dream Domain Overlord level, they won't be able to do anything to you. Because the rule structure of the Dream Domain Overlord is unique and cannot be copied. Every Dream Domain Overlord has their own rule fingerprint, like the veins of a leaf; no two are the same."

Lin Ye looked at his hand. The deep purple mark appeared dim in the yellow light, but it was glowing, flickering like a heartbeat.

"How much longer?"

"At the current pace, two months."

"I can't wait two months."

"Then speed it up." Chen Xuan turned and walked away, then stopped after a few steps. "Starting tomorrow, the training intensity will double. I will have Gu Yan simulate the fighting style of the core members of the Dream Weaver Society. You need to learn in actual combat to maintain five rules simultaneously, weave three rule networks at the same time, and entangle six targets simultaneously. Two months will be compressed into one month."

"it is good."

Chen Xuan left. Lin Ye stood in the corridor, watching his figure disappear around the corner. Su Wanning came out of the medical room, holding a glass of water, and handed it to him.

"What did Captain Chen say to you?"

"Headquarters is collecting my data."

Su Wanning's finger paused on the water glass for a moment.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Become stronger. So strong that they can't replicate it."

Su Wanning stared at him for a long time.

"I'll help you."

Lin Ye took the water glass and took a sip. The water was cold, the coldness spreading from his throat all the way to his stomach.

"You've used up a lot of energy today. Get some rest."

"The same to you."

The two walked side by side towards the fork in the corridor. Lin Ye's room was on the left, and Su Wanning's room was on the right. Every night they would part here, saying "See you tomorrow" before returning to their respective rooms. Tonight, Su Wanning didn't say "See you tomorrow." She stood at the fork, looking at Lin Ye.

"Lin Ye".

"Um."

"What did Qiuye say before it fell asleep on the fourth floor today?"

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

It said, 'I might be sleeping for a long time.'

"Are you afraid it won't wake up?"

"Don't be afraid. It will wake up. It promised."

Su Wanning looked at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"Then what are you afraid of?"

Lin Ye thought for a moment.

"I'm afraid it won't recognize me when it wakes up."

Su Wanning didn't speak. She reached out, squeezed Lin Ye's hand briefly, then released it and turned to walk towards her room. The door closed, a sliver of light seeping through the crack—she had turned on the desk lamp. The orange light seeped from under the door like a thin, luminous river.

Lin Ye stood at the fork in the road, looked around for a few seconds, and then turned and walked towards his room.

He lay in bed, the light off. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, falling silvery-white onto the floor like a thin river. The crack in the ceiling was still there, two meters and three-tenths of an inch long, with eleven branches. He stopped counting, but the shape of that crack was etched into his mind. Like a tree, a leafless tree, a tree in winter.

Autumn leaves lay dormant on his wrist. The gray veins were almost invisible in the moonlight, but Lin Ye could feel them—like a faint, yet not yet extinguished, star. It would occasionally flash, very slowly, like someone turning over in a dream.

"Autumn Leaf," Lin Ye called out to it in his heart.

no respond.

"When you wake up, I'll take you to see the trees in winter."

The gray veins flickered briefly. Very faintly, gone in an instant. But it had lit up. It had heard.

Lin Ye closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.