“Second, knock me awake with the pan.”
“Then leave the rest to me.”
A frying pan and a candle currently sat on the dining table in the lighthouse cottage.
The frying pan was the one Jack used to fry fish.
The candle, however, was entirely different.
Its milky-white body glowed faintly under the dim light, casting a warm, gentle shimmer.
It was one of the good things Elias had managed to scavenge from Dr. Mester.
A Sacred Candle.
It could dispel illusions, purify low-level spiritual pollution, and possessed a significant restraining effect on spirit world creatures.
Such a precious holy relic was currently sitting right next to a fishy-smelling frying pan.
The scene was hardly solemn.
One could only say that divine power had been forced to integrate into grassroots operations.
Elias sat at the table, tapping his finger on the two items in turn.
“Remember.
“First, if I start acting strange, light the Sacred Candle immediately.
“Second, if the candle is lit and I still haven't woken up, knock me awake with the pan.
“Third, wait for me to wake up.
“Then leave the rest to me.”
Jack stared at the frying pan on the table, his expression turning a bit subtle.
“Why a pan?”
“Because using a goddamn gun would probably send me straight to meet the Moon Lord!” Elias barked, glaring at him.
“What I meant was,” the Landon lad paused, “why didn't you choose something else? Like a rum bottle or something?”
“Did you forget my Scale is higher than yours?” Elias picked up the frying pan and weighed it in his hand.
The weight was decent, and the metal was hard enough.
A solid strike would certainly ring, but it wouldn't kill him on the spot.
“With my current physique, the frying pan's material is just right. It'll knock me out without scrambling my brains. Got it?”
Jack stared at the heavy iron pan, then at the back of Elias's head.
“Understood.” He nodded solemnly. “Don't worry, I'll control my strength.”
But Elias wasn't reassured at all.
As the kid spoke, the corners of his mouth were twitching as if he were trying desperately not to laugh.
He even reached out and gripped the handle, testing his swing beforehand.
“Wipe that goddamn grin off your face first.”
“I'm not smiling.”
“Your mouth is practically split from ear to ear!”
Jack immediately pursed his lips.
After a couple of seconds, he asked again, “How many times do I hit you?”
Elias's eye twitched. “Once!”
“What if you don't wake up the first time?”
“Then hit me again!”
Jack earnestly took note. “At most twice.”
For some reason, his tone sounded almost disappointed.
Elias suddenly felt that the greatest risk to this plan might not come from the dream demon, but from this eager-to-learn junior he had raised with his own hands.
However, the frying pan was only the final insurance.
His plan was actually very clear: he was going to turn the tables and ambush the dream demon.
Wary of his massive spirituality, the dream demon hadn't subjected him to a truly intense illusion for a long time.
This only made Elias more uneasy.
Based on past experience, the longer the interval between curse manifestations, the harder the next illusion would be to deal with.
The recent peace didn't feel like a cessation; it felt more like the thing was building up for something massive.
Tonight was the midnight snack Elias had actively prepared for it.
He and Jack would stay up until three in the morning, waiting for the spiritual tide.
For ordinary transcendents, that was the easiest time to encounter nasty things.
For a dream demon, it was practically dinner time—and an all-you-can-eat buffet at that.
Elias didn't believe it could resist.
Of course, to pull off this plan, a single Sacred Candle and a frying pan were far from enough.
The most critical component was the Waning Moon Key.
The supernatural relic currently sat on the other side of the dining table.
Its surface was completely quiet, devoid of even a trace of spiritual fluctuation, looking entirely unremarkable.
To determine if it could be used, Elias and Jack had spent the entire afternoon messing with it.
They first tried having Elias actively channel his spirituality into the Waning Moon Key.
Jack hadn't held much hope initially; his ancestors had tried this method long ago.
At first, the family had invited other high-Scale transcendents to channel their spirituality into the Waning Moon Key.
But even when that spirituality was pressed directly against the relic's surface, it didn't react in the slightest, and it didn't even bother to pretend.
The Waning Moon Key would only intermittently absorb the holder's spirituality, ignoring everyone else's entirely.
Later, they pinned their hopes on the Ascetic Society.
After all, the Waning Moon Key originally came from the Ascetic Society and was related to the Moon Lord.
Logically, having a high-Scale ascetic channel spirituality imbued with the Moon Lord's aura should have produced some effect.
Yet, among those high-Scale ascetics, the strongest had even reached Scale Seven.
The ascetic had studied it for a long time before concluding that the issue with this relic had to be traced back to its roots.
The existence of the Waning Moon Key could be traced all the way back to the Dark Era, a time when the moon was absent.
It was even older than the Ascetic Society itself.
Later, Jack's ancestors tried to find ascetics from the corresponding school, but it still had no effect.
They could only watch helplessly as the Waning Moon Key continuously drained the holder's spirituality.
The transcendents in the family grew weaker with each generation, and their inheritance gradually declined.
By the time it reached Jack, he was the sole remaining heir, unable to even stably maintain Scale One.
Yet, just this afternoon, the moment Elias's spirituality came into contact with the Waning Moon Key, the entire relic suddenly reacted.
He didn't even need to guide it deliberately.
The massive spirituality Elias actively mobilized poured out along the point of contact, instantly swallowed whole by the Waning Moon Key.
However much he sent in, it devoured, leaving absolutely nothing behind.
Elias froze on the spot.
Jack's eyes widened, completely speechless for a long while.
This was something that had never happened before.
His grandfather hadn't done it.
Those high-Scale transcendents hadn't done it.
Even the Scale Seven ascetic hadn't been able to make the Waning Moon Key spare them a glance.
Yet on this godforsaken island reef, a lighthouse keeper who claimed to be nothing special and was currently only a low-Scale transcendent had easily funneled his spirituality inside.
Jack pressed him for answers for a long time, but Elias only gave a single response: “Maybe keys just like me.”
The excuse was obviously entirely unconvincing, but to be honest, Elias didn't know the reason either.
It wasn't like he could tell Jack that he seemed to be a prime target of the Moon Lord's personal attention.
Fortunately, their goal in testing the Waning Moon Key was quickly achieved.
After absorbing Elias's spirituality, the key, which normally only absorbed energy intermittently, actually entered an active absorption state for a brief moment.
Jack had been holding it at the time.
By the time they realized something was wrong, the spirituality in his body had been drained to a razor-thin layer.
Jack turned pale, leaning heavily on the table and nearly collapsing into a water bucket.
Elias quickly slapped the Waning Moon Key out of his hand.
Only when the relic hit the floor did the active absorption state finally come to an end.
Though the process was somewhat rough, the result was exactly what they needed.
Right now, Jack's spirituality was so weak it was almost imperceptible.
As long as he suppressed what little power he had left, he would be no different from an ordinary person on a spiritual level.
And the dream demon relied precisely on spiritual perception to find its prey.
In other words...
Jack was invisible.
At least, in the eyes of the dream demon.
It would see a luxurious midnight snack—fully loaded with spirituality, completely unguarded, and actively staying up to wait for the spiritual tide.
But it wouldn't see the chef squatting right next to the snack, armed with a Sacred Candle and a frying pan.
This was Elias's plan: stay up late to lure the cautious dream demon out.
Once it let down its guard and prepared to feast, Jack would light the Sacred Candle.
If the candle could dispel the illusion directly, that would be ideal.
But if this long-accumulated illusion was too powerful for the candle to snap him out of it immediately, they would give his brain a physical reboot.
Simple.
Direct.
When technique fell short, blunt force would make up the difference.
“So when do I strike?” Jack asked, picking up the frying pan again.
“When I start talking nonsense.”
“You always talk nonsense.”
“...”
Elias found himself completely unable to refute that.
He pondered for a moment and revised the criteria.
“If you see any strange movement in the mark behind my ear, strike immediately.”
With the plan finalized, all that was left was to wait.
Night gradually enveloped White Tower Island.
The sea breeze snuck through the cracks of the doors and windows, causing the hearth fire to sway gently.
In the distance, waves repeatedly crashed against the reefs.
The tide rose wave by wave, while the lighthouse in the darkness rotated at its fixed frequency, sweeping its pale beam of light across the sea.
Elias checked his pocket watch every now and then.
Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock passed, but there was still no sign of the dream demon.
To prevent them from falling asleep early, Elias suggested playing a game called fifteen-twenty.
Jack was forced to sit across from him and play along.
The hands of the pocket watch crawled forward.
The sound of the wind outside grew heavier.
At midnight, a piece of firewood in the hearth suddenly popped with a sharp crack.
Elias instinctively looked up.
A thick, icy chill washed over his senses without warning.
It felt as though something freezing was pressed against the back of his neck, slowly boring down his spine and into his brain.
The dining table, the Sacred Candle, the frying pan, and Jack sitting across from him were simultaneously shrouded in a blurry white light.
It's here!
The moment the thought surfaced, a blinding glare completely swallowed his vision.
Elias closed his eyes instinctively.
There was no screeching of spirit world creatures in his ears, nor was there the heavy grinding of the lighthouse gears.
Instead, he heard the soft thud of a car driving over a speed bump, accompanied by the distant laughter of children chasing each other.
Elias's breath caught.
He slowly opened his eyes.
A familiar apartment building stood quietly in the twilight.
A few electric scooters were parked downstairs.
The convenience store in the residential area was lit up, its glass door plastered with faded promotional ads.
There was no damp, salty tang in the air.
No pungent odor of whale oil mixed with gunpowder.
Only the delicious aroma of home-cooked meals wafting from a half-open window.
Everything was so ordinary.
So ordinary that his chest tightened.
He had actually returned to the neighborhood he had thought about day and night.
Elias stood frozen, staring blankly at the familiar surroundings before him.
He knew this was very likely fake.
Dream demons were masters at digging out weaknesses from memories.
Yet, his legs moved forward of their own accord anyway.
Following the route in his memory, he walked toward the apartment building he had returned to countless times.
Just then, a familiar voice suddenly called out from behind him:
“Brother Huan?”
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