Chapter 44
Chapter 44: The Corpse-Raising Grounds (Part 1)
The next day, dark clouds pressed low over the sky. It didn’t rain, but the world felt stifling anyway.
Song Wei Chen arrived at the meeting point early—half a quarter hour ahead of time—only to find the grievance-breakers already waiting. The Nian Niang case involved too much. Everyone was desperate to go investigate the River of Oblivion.
Ding He Ran and the others lit up when they saw her. A small crowd immediately formed around her, full of concerned questions and familiar teasing.
Warmth surged in her chest.
So they really did care.
Even Gu Yu—last night Jing Zhe had mentioned, like it was nothing, that after Song Wei Chen was carried off unconscious by Mo Ting Feng, Gu Yu had hidden in Venerable Manor and cried in secret more than once.
Song Wei Chen had always told herself the Dream Realm was half-dream, half-wake. The people and feelings here might be half real, half false. She didn’t need to take it seriously.
But now she found herself wanting to hold on to these people—people she could actually call her own.
In the real world, wasn’t it the same? What made it precious were the few people she wanted, truly, to stay with.
She suddenly felt she should become stronger—not only to clear her name, but so she could protect herself, and protect the people she cared about.
Mo Ting Feng arrived. His expression was calm, steady—no trace of last night’s mood swings. Song Wei Chen let out a quiet breath, as if the flight over the River of Oblivion and the strange intimacy in the Dining Hall had been nothing but a dream.
Twelve people from the Dust Warden Office gathered for the operation. They boarded a soul-carrying boat and set off for the River of Oblivion.
It was Song Wei Chen’s first chance to really study the boat. It resembled an ancient vessel, but the pointed ends at bow and stern curled upward like a chameleon’s tail.
If this were back home, she thought, this would absolutely be a UFO.
She ran her fingers along the hull, imagination firing.
“The soul-carrying boat comes in different sizes,” Mo Ting Feng said, appearing beside her without her noticing. “It’s a tool the Dust Warden Office uses to capture chaos wraiths. The hooks at the front and back are soul-lock tethers.”
He tapped the dark material lightly. “They’re made from darkwood grown for ten thousand years in the River of Three Crossings. They can bind a chaos wraith and prevent escape.”
“Nian Niang wasn’t tethered that day,” Song Wei Chen said, remembering. “She could move freely.”
Mo Ting Feng’s voice was flat. “That fits his style. The previous White Robe never locked up chaos wraiths. With his strength, he believed no chaos wraith could escape.”
“How could someone that powerful just vanish…” Song Wei Chen murmured, then suddenly felt a chill and tried to bargain her way out of danger. “I heard the previous White Robe had so many enemies it’s insane. If I go on missions like this with you, won’t I get targeted for revenge? Dust Warden Official, why don’t you give me an office clerk job instead…”
Her heroic vow to become stronger lasted exactly one day before getting eaten by a dog.
“I’m here,” Mo Ting Feng said, eyes forward. “No one will dare touch you.”
He almost added, so don’t leave my side, stay close—but he didn’t.
“Dust Warden Official, Brother Wei—we’re here,” Ye Wu Jiu said, walking over and pointing toward the shore. “That’s it.”
A cave with a wide, open mouth.
At first glance, it looked ordinary. Because it opened upward and the inside was visible, it was the sort of place your eyes slid past without noticing.
But once you looked closer, the wrongness became obvious: the light inside didn’t match the weather outside. Today was overcast, yet within the cave, the brightness looked like a clear, sunny day.
The Dream Realm was vast. Without someone as meticulous as Ye Wu Jiu—and without the direction he’d gained from studying years of River of Oblivion disappearance files at Cang Yue’s residence—this anomaly might have gone unnoticed for months.
“Go down and take a look,” Mo Ting Feng ordered.
Everyone disembarked and headed toward the cave. Without drawing attention to it, Mo Ting Feng pulled Song Wei Chen closer to his side.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“With you here,” she admitted, “I’m not afraid.”
Mo Ting Feng paused. Something light moved through his chest like a clean wind, as if every difficulty in the world could be split open and solved. He felt steadier for it.
“Stay alert,” he told the others. “White Robe is my responsibility.”
Then he wrapped an arm around Song Wei Chen’s waist and leapt with her into the cave.
The moment she crossed the entrance, she felt a familiar, strange sensation—but it slipped away before she could catch it.
Inside, everything seemed ordinary. Sunlight appeared to pour in; bright flecks danced across the rock walls. It looked completely normal—except it made no sense at all, considering the gloomy sky outside.
“Build a fire,” Mo Ting Feng said. “Control the flames.”
Someone obeyed at once.
Song Wei Chen stared, bewildered. Were they planning to camp?
Ding He Ran leaned in and explained quietly, “Open flame can break illusions. The Dust Warden Official is worried the cave might be misleading us.”
The fire flared up.
Then something even stranger happened.
The flames burned fiercely—but there was no heat. The air didn’t warm. Even when someone held a hand directly in the fire, there was no burning sensation at all.
Everything about the place screamed wrong.
Outside, over the water not far away, Gu Cang Yue hovered in the air like an exquisite evil god, watching from a distance.
He’d promised that during the “dating” period, he wouldn’t interfere with her work—unless she asked him for help. He considered himself no gentleman, but he wasn’t faithless either.
So no matter how much he wanted to approach, he only watched from far away for a moment, then transformed and disappeared again.
Back in the cave, Song Wei Chen wandered along the walls, fingers trailing over stone, trying to catch that earlier sensation.
“He Ran,” she said, turning to Ding He Ran, “can you do me a favor and take me in and out of the entrance a few more times?”
If she couldn’t remember, she’d force her brain to recognize the pattern.
Ding He Ran didn’t answer.
Instead, Mo Ting Feng stepped in.
Ding He Ran wasn’t stupid. Ever since Song Wei Chen fainted in the garden as White Robe, he’d learned the lesson: touching her meant being flayed alive by the Dust Warden Official’s eyes.
Mo Ting Feng lifted her and carried her back and forth across the entrance.
Each time, Song Wei Chen felt that same indescribable sensation, flickering in and out.
She closed her eyes, concentrating, digging through her mind like it was a locked drawer.
Then it hit her.
The feeling was exactly like what she experienced as an avatar operator—staring at a screen and controlling an AI. That odd sensation of being herself, yet not herself.
“I think I know!” she blurted.
Mo Ting Feng immediately set her down. The others gathered around.
“What is it?”
“This entrance is the problem,” Song Wei Chen said, words spilling fast. “It’s like a screen—like a mirror. Once we cross it, we become a virtual version of ourselves, but we don’t realize it.”
Her gaze snapped to the fire. “That’s why the flames don’t burn. Because not only is the fire fake—we’re fake too!”
Someone scoffed. “How is that possible? If I’m fake, wouldn’t I know?”
“Yeah, Brother Wei,” Ding He Ran said, frowning. “How do you prove we’re fake?”
Song Wei Chen’s pulse hammered.
A bold idea rose in her mind—reckless and terrifying.
“I’ll prove it.”
She snatched Ding He Ran’s sword from his waist.
Instantly, the crowd reacted. Several people moved at once, forming a protective barrier in front of Mo Ting Feng, staring at her with suspicion.
Song Wei Chen backed up a few steps, gripped the hilt, and turned the blade toward herself.
“Wei Wei!” Mo Ting Feng’s voice tore through the cave. “Don’t—”
He shoved past the others and lunged for her.
But he was a heartbeat too late.
Song Wei Chen shut her eyes and drove the sword into her own body with all her strength.