The milky-white light of the Sacred Candle burned steadily in the night.
The moment it was lit, a translucent figure suddenly appeared above Elias’s head.
Its limbs were long and slender. Its body was like a layer of constantly flowing mist, with tiny bits of phosphorescence flickering within. Its blurry face had no features at all.
A dream demon.
The holy light of the Sacred Candle had not only torn through the illusion but had also briefly dragged this creature, which had been hiding in the shallow layers of the spirit world, into reality. Now, even an ordinary person without Spirit Vision could see it clearly.
The dream demon had clearly not expected this.
It had already dragged Elias’s consciousness into the illusion, and a spiritual connection had been established. In its perception, that massive and active spirituality was right within its reach.
There was no protection. There was no resistance. It only needed to continue feeding along the channel formed by the curse to enjoy a feast that far exceeded its expectations.
Instead, just as it opened its mouth, the meal woke up.
Even worse, there was another presence in the room that it had failed to perceive from the very beginning.
Jack. After having the vast majority of his spirituality drained by the Waning Moon Key, he was nearly invisible to the dream demon’s senses.
It wasn't until the Sacred Candle was lit and the frying pan slammed into Elias’s head that the dream demon realized what was happening.
It was a trap.
From the moment the Sacred Candle flared to life, the dream demon knew it had been duped. These low-level spirit world creatures were never good at direct combat. Its first and only instinct was to flee.
It needed to run as fast as possible.
The dream demon’s translucent body suddenly contracted upward. Simultaneously, it began to sever the spiritual channel connected to Elias.
As long as the connection was broken, it could immediately retreat back into the spirit world. The Sacred Candle could make it briefly manifest, but it couldn't trap it in reality forever. This was exactly how it had slipped away back in the Hope County sewers.
Unfortunately for it, Elias was awake. And he was in a very bad mood.
He had just taken a frying pan to the crown of his head, and the emotions from parting with his mother still lingered in his mind. This dream demon, which had dragged him into that illusion, had walked right into the line of fire.
Elias didn't have time to keep stopping Jack from delivering a second blow. His right hand had already gripped the cane at his waist.
He drew it, turned, and stomped.
The movements were seamless. The heavy metal base of the cane slammed violently against the floor.
Thud!
A wave of resonance energy exploded outward with Elias at the center. A sharp, internal resonance pain instantly pierced through his entire body. His head, which had just been whacked by the frying pan, was vibrated from the inside by the resonance once again.
Elias’s vision went dark for a second. Immediately following that, a layer of Soul Screams stored within the cane’s quartz core erupted. The sharp, chaotic noise stabbed directly into his consciousness, and a needle-like pain throbbed deep within his soul.
Elias’s body swayed, but he did not retreat. The spiritual channel established by the dream demon had not been completely severed yet.
The creature wanted to use it to feed on Elias, so Elias turned the tables and shoved the resonance shock and the Soul Screams right back through the channel.
“You wanted to eat, didn't you? Here’s a little extra seasoning.”
The resonance flowed upstream. The dream demon’s body, which was on the verge of vanishing, suddenly froze in mid-air. It let out a pained shriek—a sound that didn't travel through the air but scraped directly across their souls.
Jack’s face turned pale, and the frying pan nearly slipped from his hands. The dream demon’s body, meanwhile, was like glass struck by a heavy hammer, instantly covered in countless fine cracks. The spirit world rift that was closing also ground to a halt. Its spiritual body was trapped in a brief state of paralysis.
That was enough.
Elias endured the agony brought by the Soul Screams and drew the revolver from his waist. His spirituality surged, and a layer of cold moonlight rapidly crawled over the gun’s frame. Silver-white arcane patterns lit up on the metal surface.
Moonlight Enchantment. Against spiritual bodies, it was the right tool for the job.
Elias raised the muzzle and aimed it at the dream demon’s faceless head. The sea breeze blew against his Henley shirt. The bump on his forehead was still throbbing with pain, and a trail of blood hung under his nose. He didn't look particularly dignified, but his aim was rock steady.
“You managed to escape me in the sewers back home last time.”
Elias curled his lips into a somewhat haggard smile. “Let’s see how you plan to run this time.”
The dream demon seemed to sense the threat to its life. Its translucent body writhed frantically as it forced itself to break free from the paralysis caused by the resonance. The spirit world rift reappeared behind it. If it was given just half a second more, it could dive back in.
But this time, Elias would not give it the chance.
Bang!
Fire spat from the muzzle. The bullet, empowered by Moonlight Enchantment, tore through the night and accurately struck the dream demon’s head. Silver-white spirituality exploded upon impact.
A hole was blown straight through the dream demon’s fragile spiritual body. There was no blood, only a large amount of translucent spiritual fragments scattering outward.
Its movements stopped. The spirit world rift behind it collapsed. The dream demon let out one final shriek before its cracked body began to disintegrate from the wound.
“I might not be able to lift the curse, but I can certainly lift you off this mortal coil,” Elias panted, his gun still pointed at the spot where the spiritual light was fading. Only after confirming that the creature wasn't re-aggregating did he finally relax slightly.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the revolver spun several times in his palm before the grip settled firmly back into his hand. The entire sequence was incredibly smooth.
“So cool...”
Jack’s voice came from behind him. His attention had already shifted from the dream demon to the gun-spinning.
Elias ignored him. It was only then that he felt the nighttime sea breeze blowing against his face. The cold air brushed through his hair, and his clothes fluttered in the wind. Elias looked down at his feet.
Without realizing it, he had walked all the way from the table to the door of the cottage. In the illusion, he had been walking home through his neighborhood; in reality, his body had been following those movements. If Jack hadn't lit the Sacred Candle in time, no one knew where he would have ended up.
A cold sweat slowly broke out on Elias’s back.
He looked up at the spot where the dream demon had vanished. The last wisps of light were fading in the wind. But as that light disappeared, several fragmented images flashed before Elias’s eyes again.
Ice and snow. Torches. Black tree roots. A single white flower blooming in the darkness.
The images were as brief as a sensory twitch. Before he could grasp the details, his vision returned to normal. It felt like a reminder of something.
“A pity.”
Elias raised a hand to touch the area behind his left ear. The mark representing the dream demon curse was still there. The texture was clear, and there was no sign of it fading.
“Killing it doesn't affect the existence of the curse.”
There was a hint of disappointment in his voice. The dream demon was dead, but the power stitching his soul to these spirit world coordinates remained. He still couldn't leave White Tower Island for too long. After being busy for half the night, all he had done was kill an old acquaintance that had been eyeing him for a long time. The fundamental problem remained unsolved.
“So you got hit for nothing?” Jack’s voice drifted over.
Elias turned around. The young man was standing behind him, still holding the Sacred Candle in one hand.
“Are you sure that thing is dead?”
“Dead. Its head was blown open, and its spiritual body has completely dissipated.” Elias frowned at him. More accurately, he was looking at the frying pan in Jack's other hand. “Why are you still holding that pan?”
Jack’s raised hand gripped the handle, his posture still perfect. “Just to be safe.”
“Safe my ass,” Elias grumbled. He pointed toward the cottage. “Put the pan back.”
“Oh.” Jack finally lowered the frying pan and followed him inside, clutching it to his chest. After a few steps, he couldn't help but lean in closer. “Sir, could you teach me that gun-spinning trick you just did? It was so cool! I want to learn!”
“Hehe.” Elias touched the bump on his head. The swollen area was sensitive; even a light touch made his eyes twitch with pain. “Wait until this gift you gave me on my head is healed, then we'll talk.”
“I controlled my strength.”
“And I'm supposed to thank you?”
“You're welcome,” Jack replied earnestly.
Elias stopped and glared at him. Jack realized that his response might have been a bit problematic, so he hugged the frying pan and silently took half a step back.
The two returned to the cottage. After extinguishing the Sacred Candle and its milky-white flame, the room was once again lit only by the dim, yellow glow of the fireplace and the kerosene lamp.
The aftereffects of the Soul Screams were still echoing in his mind, and the bump on his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He needed silence right now.
“Go back to your cellar room and sleep,” Elias said, pointing toward the trapdoor.
“But...”
“Now.”
Jack obediently left. Before he disappeared, he took one last look at the revolver on Elias’s waist, clearly not giving up on the idea of learning how to spin it.
The wooden door closed, and the room finally fell silent.
Elias sat back down at the dining table. He pulled out the logbook that had belonged to the original owner and slowly flipped it open. The pages were yellowed. On the pages where words had been written before, the marks left by the dagger were particularly striking. The impressions had pierced through several pages, leaving deep indentations in the paper.
Elias stared at those marks for a few seconds before turning to a clean, intact page. He put pen to paper.
He wrote the first line: Frozen city.
The second line: Twelve torches. Eleven ahead. Plus the one in my hand, exactly twelve.
The third line: Black tree, white flower.
The final line: Unknown woman.
The ink slowly bled into the coarse paper. Elias set the pen down and reorganized the images he had just seen in his mind.
When they first appeared, he thought they were just flaws left behind by the dream demon while it was creating the illusion. After all, dream demons weren't particularly intelligent. They could read memories, but that didn't mean they could organize all those memories without error.
But the same images had appeared repeatedly. Even after the dream demon’s physical body had died and the illusion had completely collapsed, they still flashed briefly in his consciousness. This couldn't be explained away as a mere “flaw in the illusion.”
Those images seemed to have been hidden deep within his spirituality all along. It was only through the power of the dream demon that they were accidentally unearthed.
Elias leaned back against the chair and reached for the copy of Introduction to Mysticism on the table, flipping to the chapter on spiritual bodies and the dream demon curse. The book stated clearly that a dream demon creates illusions based on the cursed individual’s imagination, perception, and memories.
Old Ed’s information hadn't been wrong either. Elias read it over twice, then flipped through the surrounding pages to make sure he hadn't missed any supplementary notes. The answer remained the same: every element in the illusion came from the victim themselves.
Elias slowly closed the book. The only sound in the room was the sea breeze rattling the window.
If the dream demon was reading his memories, then that frozen city was his memory. Those twelve torches were his memory. The black tree, the white flower, and the woman holding the sapling asking if he would return should also exist deep within his psyche.
But why didn't he remember any of it?
And then there was the mirror. In the illusion, the mirror first reflected Elias’s face. It wasn't until he blinked that it turned back into Jiang Huan.
Which face was the true image that the dream demon had read from the depths of his spirituality?
He had always believed that he was Jiang Huan from another world. He had died in a wild lake and woken up in White Tower, occupying Elias Rockland’s body and inheriting some of its residual memories. This logic was clear and complete. It was the cognitive anchor he had used to confirm his identity in this mad world.
But what if there was another set of memories hidden deep within his spirituality that didn't belong to Jiang Huan? What if even the complete life of “Jiang Huan” was just a perception that had been stuffed into his consciousness?
Elias’s grip on the pen tightened. A chill crawled up his spine.
The wind outside continued to blow. No one at the table answered him. He stared at the few lines in the logbook for a long time. Finally, his pen touched the paper again. At the very end of all the notes, he slowly wrote a single question:
Who is Jiang Huan?
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