Chapter 46

An Long shoved the door open and barged in, seeing feminine trinkets strewn across the floor and a white fox-fur cloak embroidered with blossoms. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the only possible hiding spot—the carved bed—and he instantly pieced together the situation.

Knowing Song Qingshi was touchy about his delicate build being mistaken for a woman, An Long quickly covered his mouth, stifling his laughter to avoid provoking Song Qingshi into making him permanently disappear.

After fighting to keep a straight face for a long while, he finally got his shit together and called out, "Qing Shi? Where are you?"

Finally, a petulant voice piped up from beneath the bed, "An Long, get out first."

An Long was dying of laughter inside, dying to see Song Qingshi’s current state but not wanting to end up on his shit list by dismantling the bed. After some thought, he quietly attempted to summon a scouting Gu insect to spy, only to find his powers suppressed. "This formation has a restraining force—my Gu insects won’t work," he blurted out, shocked.

"Wait what?" Song Qingshi, still under the bed, tried summoning his spiritual flames but found only his Inner Fire remained. Cradling a flickering red lotus in his hand, he pondered before realizing something suspicious. "Why were you trying to summon a Gu insect? Were you planning to peek?"

That damn Alaskan was always pulling crap like this—he was all too familiar with this trick.

Enraged, Song Qingshi made the lotus flames surge.

An Long saw the murder in his eyes and booked it from the room, narrowly dodging several bursts of Inner Fire. Not daring to push his luck, he meekly prepared wash water for Song Qingshi and shoved his spare black robe through the door gap. Then, he crouched in a corner, bemoaning his lost chance.

After washing off the makeup, letting his hair down, and changing into the oversized men’s robe, Song Qingshi finally relaxed and waved the damn dog—still sulking in the corner—to come in.

An Long stepped inside and did a double-take at the sight of him.

He had always known Song Qingshi was easy on the eyes, but for years, he had worn bland, high-collared robes, exuding an air of purity like virgin snow atop a sacred peak. Now, however, the loose black robe swamping his slender form, his long hair disheveled, collarbones faintly visible—he looked like someone just waking from a dream, sleep-rumpled and stupidly adorable.

This was exactly the sight An Long had fantasized about, yet it ripped open barely-healed scars, stirring greed and desire, dragging his darkest desires to the surface.

*Don’t think. Don’t make a mistake…*

An Long closed his eyes and reined in his impulses.

Song Qingshi looked up from his thoughts, noticing An Long’s strange expression—something almost dangerous. Worried, he asked, "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," An Long pasted on his trademark smirk, swiftly changing the subject. "Just thought the robe looked odd on you—way too big. So, have you figured out this formation’s origin?"

He knew Song Qingshi was a walking encyclopedia on array theory, having read countless ancient texts on obscure and forgotten knowledge.

"Mm," Song Qingshi hesitated. "I once read about something similar in *The Travels of Daoist Xunshan*—some half-rotted ancient manuscript. It mentioned a strange formation on Moon Mountain called the Nightmare Mind-Devouring Formation, a fucked-up version of a Heart-Testing Formation. If multiple people enter, it selects one person’s nightmare as the foundation, spinning a fucked-up dreamscape that ensnares everyone. To escape, the dreamer must face their deepest fears head-on, or they’ll be trapped forever. But I’m not entirely sure what counts as ‘awakening’..."

He felt perfectly awake himself.

An Long scoffed, "What kind of bullshit is this? Did Mo Yuan lose his mind? Jumping through all these hoops just to mess with people?"

"Daoist Xunshan predates the Mo Yuan Sword Sovereign. I doubt this formation has anything to do with him. He might have left traces while breaking it for some reason," Song Qingshi reasoned. "That disciple from the Red Dragon Sect swore up and down about snake bites, yet there were no bite marks. That doesn’t make sense. The formation likely conjured a nightmare of snakes, scaring the shit out of him psychologically."

An Long frowned. "Whose nightmare are we in, then?"

Song Qingshi sulked, "Pretty sure it's mine..."

He despised being compared to a girl, so his nightmare had dressed him as one. Yue Wuhuan couldn’t possibly fear him turning into a woman, could he? As for the Alaskan Malamute—the bastard was eating this up, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Enraged, Song Qingshi summoned his red lotus flames again, ready to burn that smug look off his face.

An Long, sensing danger, quickly straightened up. "What about Wu Huan? What role does he play in your nightmare?"

Wu Huan? Failing exams...?

Song Qingshi had a sudden horrifying realization, paling in horror. He leapt off the bed and dashed for the door, but the stupid robe kept tripping him up. Desperate, he tried summoning his red lotus to fly, but An Long stopped him. "That robe isn’t fireproof. Burn it, and I’ve got nothing else for you to wear."

Helpless, Song Qingshi stumbled outside.

The streets outside were bustling with pedestrians, their faces weirdly blurry—like fleeting dream figures, impossible to remember.

An Long whistled in approval. "Definitely the Nightmare Mind-Devouring Formation."

Little Qing Shi was truly a damn encyclopedia, absorbing even the most obscure and useless knowledge.

Song Qingshi accosted some rando, stammering, "Is there... any bad place nearby?"

The passerby blinked. "What counts as a bad place?"

An Long stepped in, clarifying, "Brothels—ones with male courtesans."

Song Qingshi’s face drained of color. Both he and An Long were at the Nascent Soul stage, yet their cultivation was suppressed to the Golden Core level, their strongest abilities sealed. Yue Wuhuan, only at Foundation Establishment, would be weakened further. If his Bloodvine was also sealed, he’d be as vulnerable as a mortal.

The passerby pointed east. "Down this street, turn at the intersection—you’ll find the Golden Phoenix Terrace, the city’s largest brothel. They’ve got what you’re looking for."

The name alone made Song Qingshi's blood run cold. He bolted.

As he rounded the corner, a towering pavilion came into view. At its summit stood a heart-stopping vision in gold-and-red feathered robes—Yue Wuhuan. His gaze was empty, staring blankly at the sky, clutching a jade flute as if oblivious to everything.

The wind lifted his feathered skirt, revealing scars and shackles around his ankles...

Song Qingshi screamed his name.

But Yue Wuhuan stepped off the edge.

Without hesitation, Song Qingshi summoned his red lotus, wreathed in flames, and lunged forward—but he was half a second too late.

Like a wounded bird, he fell gently, a red flower blooming on the stones.

Life faded so swiftly, so easily.

The ending came without warning.

Song Qingshi knelt in the spreading blood, cradling the lifeless body, desperately performing futile CPR. "I won’t give up... I won’t..."

This was his worst nightmare.

*Wake up!*

His vision darkened as the world dissolved into nothingness.

...

The Medical King Valley’s records listed 127 types of Heart-Testing Formations. Twelve would kill intruders upon failure, eighteen would trap them eternally, forty-six would reset the trial, tormenting them until they solved the puzzle, and the rest had unknown effects.

Song Qingshi opened his eyes again—still in the ridiculous women’s attire, still on that carved bed. He realized he was lucky; this formation allowed retries after failure. But repeated nightmares would erode even the strongest cultivator’s will, driving them to madness.

No longer caring about his humiliation, he leapt off the bed, shoved past An Long’s questions, and sprinted toward the Golden Phoenix Terrace, terrified of being even a second too late.

An Long, seeing him in the dress, whistled again. "Gorgeous," he murmured.

He smugly assumed the dream had cast them as a couple.

As for Yue Wuhuan—that damned seducer—being tortured to death in a nightmare was just icing on the cake.

He’d happily stay in this dream forever. But since it was Song Qingshi’s nightmare, failing to rescue Yue Wuhuan and solve the puzzle would only prolong his suffering.

The seducer could die a thousand times—but his precious Qing Shi *must not* be hurt. An Long made his decision and raced after Song Qingshi to save Yue Wuhuan.

Song Qingshi rushed to the Phoenix Tower, the Red Lotus blazing a trail as he charged inside, only to find Yue Wuhuan being harassed by several disgusting male cultivators. Without a second thought, he summoned the Red Lotus Mystic Fire, raising a towering wall of flames to separate those scum.

He turned back, worry in his voice, "Wuhuan, are you alright?"

Yue Wuhuan sat on the ground, trembling all over, his eyes filled with despair.

The wall of flames was shattered by a black blade—these cultivators were no weaklings, each possessing Golden Core-level strength. Armed with swords and sabers, they lunged at Song Qingshi. No good at close-quarters fighting and with his shadow flames suppressed, he could barely defend himself, suffering several cuts on his body.

An Long burst in, spotting the bloodstains on Song Qingshi’s white robes. Furious, he wrenched one cultivator's head clean off on the spot and joined the fray. A warrior forged in countless battles, he excelled in all forms of combat. Even without his Gu insects, his fists alone were enough to withstand the assault. Seizing the black blade, he slashed it across an opponent’s throat.

The pressure on Song Qingshi eased abruptly. He turned, searching for Yue Wuhuan—only to see him standing atop the high platform again. His heart nearly seized with terror as he rushed forward, pleading, "You—don’t jump…"

At such a moment, his awkward words failed to offer any comforting words!

Song Qingshi was fighting back tears, wishing he could slap himself.

"Master, I’m sorry," Yue Wuhuan cast him a despairing glance. "This world is too vile… I can’t bear it anymore…"

Then, he took half a step back and leaped from the platform once more.

Song Qingshi didn’t hesitate—he jumped after him without a second thought, barely catching the hem of his feathered skirt.

The two fell together into the void…

An Long turned just in time to see Song Qingshi recklessly leap from the platform. He froze in shock.

The black blade in his hand remained idle as a sword pierced his abdomen—

Yet, he no longer felt the pain.

…

When Song Qingshi awoke for the third time, he sat blankly on the edge of the bed, his mind replaying the recent events.

An Long appeared before him, face twisted in rage, yanking him by the collar and snarling, "Why?! Why go this far for him?!"

"You’re right—this shouldn’t have happened. I shook off my panic, gradually regaining composure. "But first, I need to confirm something."

Without waiting for An Long’s reply, he hastily jumped off the bed and dashed toward the Phoenix Tower again.

An Long, seething at his idiocy, slammed his fist into the wall, nearly punching through it. But now wasn’t the time for arguments—he couldn’t let this idiot suffer alone. Suppressing his rage, he followed once more, swearing to deal with him later.

The events repeated. The battle repeated.

Once again, Song Qingshi stood before the broken and battered Yue Wuhuan. This time, he calmly posed a question: "There's a cage with chickens and rabbits. Thirty-five heads and ninety-four legs total. How many of each? Solve it in your head—now!"