Chapter Three: The Enigmatic Mirage Clan

In this vast world, wonders never cease. Beyond the Five Realms, there are countless races that, though left within their bounds, do not truly belong to them. The Shèn people are one such race.

The Shèn are known for their capricious ways, yet they hold loyalty and affection in high regard. From birth, they possess a Nightmare Body, as naturally as a shadow follows a person. When a Shèn chooses to sleep, the Nightmare Body is summoned at will, able to create and manipulate illusions. There are secret arts among the Shèn that their true bodies cannot withstand, yet their Nightmare Bodies wield them effortlessly.

Thus, the Nightmare Body is indispensable to the Shèn.

This illusion incident was no exception.

The room was silent, still as a tomb.

Yanru was restless with every passing moment, her expression anxious as she asked, “How is Guan Yan?”

At her words, Blackslave exchanged a glance with Yan Nianqing, then replied, “There is hope.”

Yanru immediately pressed, “How can we help? I’ll do anything!” As long as Guan Yan woke, she would agree to anything.

For once, Yan Nianqing’s face was grave. Tugging at Obsidian’s sleeve, he said, “Daddy, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Obsidian, puzzled, responded and followed them out, leaving Yanru alone to watch over the patient.

“Speak,” Obsidian prompted.

Blackslave answered in a low voice, “I fear this is a case of Nightmare Sorcery.”

“What is Nightmare Sorcery?” Obsidian asked helplessly. These terms of this world were beyond him.

Yan Nianqing explained, “Daddy, Nightmare Sorcery is shorthand for the arts of the Nightmare Body used by the Shèn. There are many kinds, but the sort that seizes souls is the most forbidden, wherever it is found.”

Blackslave added, “Such forbidden arts are usually accessible only to the most precious members of the clan. I’m afraid we’ve encountered a royal of the Shèn this time.”

Obsidian listened, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Yet you said there’s hope?”

Yan Nianqing said, “He means hope only because the victim is still breathing. As long as there’s breath, there is hope. But who can say when that might fail? The sooner the rescue, the better.”

He paused, then continued, “But we cannot guarantee the rescue will work; few have ever tried. The Shèn are gentle by nature and rarely engage in wanton slaughter, so this method has seldom been used.”

“Let’s try it,” Yanru’s low voice interrupted, unnoticed until now. She managed a bitter smile. “Better to try your way than let him sleep himself to death—there might yet be a sliver of hope.”

She wiped her face with determination. “Is there anything else I need to do? I’ll go prepare immediately.”

Obsidian could only ask again, “Are you certain?”

Yanru, through her tears, managed a smile and rebuked, “What’s that look for? Do you pity me? I don’t need it. I’m always as good as my word—if I say I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

Obsidian saluted her inwardly in admiration—what a resolute woman she was!

Blackslave replied, “In that case, bring him to the array in the outer courtyard at three-quarters past midnight. Only you can bring him back.”

Yanru nodded to show she understood.

Midnight.

Blackslave had already arranged the formation. Yanru and Qi Guan Yan stood at its center. Following his instructions, Yanru cut a small wound in each of their palms. Perhaps due to the array, the blood did not flow out, but instead hurried to enter the other’s body.

Yanru and Qi Guan Yan clasped hands. Three red lines appeared on the back of her hand.

When the array was complete, Blackslave instructed, “Once you enter Qi Guan Yan’s nightmare, do not let yourself be deceived by what you see. There should be three red lines on the back of your hand; every quarter of an hour, one will vanish. As long as you bring him to the light within the dream before the last line disappears, you both may return.”

Yanru nodded, closed her eyes, and together they drifted into sleep.

Obsidian, never having been to the Netherworld, could not describe his feelings. In that realm, daylight never saw the sun, but at night the moon loomed terrifyingly large—just as it did now, blood-red and making the darkness even more sinister.

Obsidian took a few steps back, unnerved. A chill swept his back as a breeze passed.

Blackslave, face expressionless, uttered two words that shocked Obsidian: “They’re coming.”

Obsidian swallowed nervously. “What’s coming?”

Yan Nianqing, small and standing before Obsidian, raised a hand as if to shield him. “Nightmare insects are coming. The array attracts them. If they pass through you, it’s no different from death.”

Obsidian’s face turned ashen. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Yan Nianqing turned to him with a cheerful yet eerily calm voice. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll protect you.”

“Nonsense!” For the first time, Obsidian felt terror at his ignorance of this world—at any moment, he could drag his companions down, or worse, lose them.

Faces flashed through his mind: the icy Yanluo, sweet and caring little Nianqing, the sly Guiteng, the cold yet warm-hearted Blackslave, capable Ding Ning, and this bickering couple...

In his brief time here, he had met so many. He could not bear to lose any of them.

The sky darkened. Dense swarms of black insects blotted out even the blood-red moon, surging toward their array.

Obsidian hurriedly scooped up Yan Nianqing, turning his back to shield him from the swarm. Yan Nianqing struggled. “Daddy, what are you doing? Don’t be foolish. Nianqing can…”

But Obsidian’s strength was suddenly incredible. Even Yan Nianqing, at the peak of the divine realm, could not budge him.

The Soul-Devouring Bell and its twin rang out at once, their sound overwhelming the deafening chorus of insects.

“Obsidian” held Yan Nianqing with one arm, and with a single wave of the other, the relentless swarm was held at bay.

Yan Nianqing was stunned, disbelief etched on his face. After a moment, his eyes reddened, and he clung to “Obsidian’s” neck, sobbing, “Mother…”

“Obsidian” said nothing, only gently patted Yan Nianqing’s back. That familiar gesture made him weep all the harder.

Using the Soul-Devouring Bell as a conduit, “Obsidian” sent a message to Blackslave. “Slave…”

Blackslave, not far off, jumped in fright. “M-Master…” Heaven help him—what had he done to Obsidian these days? As he thought of it, Blackslave’s face turned ashen.

“Take care of Nianqing. Wait for my return. Don’t let this happen again…” “Obsidian” bent down, burying his face in the chubby boy’s body, inhaling deeply. With a touch, the plump child transformed into a youth—restraining his own growth was not a good habit, though the reason was well understood.

He left his words unfinished, but Blackslave understood at once, breaking into a cold sweat.

The bell rang again, and as if startled, the nightmare insects vanished in an instant.

“Obsidian” swayed unsteadily, sighing softly. He could not hold on much longer. Though he had reclaimed the Soul-Settling Pearl, the Soul-Chasing Tassel, and the Soul-Devouring Bell, it was not enough. At most, he could remain conscious for the time it took an incense stick to burn.

He was about to depart when the long-neglected array malfunctioned.

“Well, well, am I seeing things? Isn’t this the Ghost Lord?” “Qi Guan Yan” staggered to his feet with a chilling laugh.

Blackslave looked closely—Yanru’s red lines were gone. She had failed.

“Qi Guan Yan” moved stiffly, a twisted mockery of life.

“Obsidian” said, “Why not show yourself in your true form?”

“My true form? Hahaha… Do you take me for a fool? You’d wipe me out without a trace,” “Qi Guan Yan” replied.

A red gleam flickered in his sunken eyes. “Let’s make a deal. Help me find someone, and I’ll release these star-crossed lovers.”

“Obsidian” laughed coldly. “Them? What are they to me?” The chill in his voice was such that it seemed to freeze the very air.

At this, Yan Nianqing, now in his youth’s body, blushed to be held and wriggled free. “Mother, let me handle this!”