Chapter 47

Yue Wuhuan froze, speechless for a long time.

He looked like a broken mechanism, stuck on an error, his expression rigid.

By now, how could Song Qingshi not understand what was happening? His little angel was a super scholar who didn't need an abacus to read ledgers, and had recently started studying advanced mathematics. To him, this simple problem was like one plus one, solvable in an instant.

An Long was bewildered by his out-of-the-blue question: "Why would anyone put rabbits and chickens together? If you want to know how many there are, just open the cage and count them! Whoever did this must be an idiot, right?"

Song Qingshi ignored the math dunce beside him. The red lotus petals in his hand scattered into countless fiery blades, carrying endless rage, all swirling towards the "Yue Wuhuan" before him. He wished he could slice this fake, who had deceived his feelings and made him lose face, into a thousand pieces.

He should have realized earlier that this wasn’t Yue Wuhuan.

Yue Wuhuan was stubborn and proud. How could he die without killing those who had hurt him? Even if his illness truly flared up and he was driven to self-harm, he would never choose to jump in front of Song Qingshi. Instead, he would choose to disappear silently and secretly, not letting anyone see his disgrace.

Song Qingshi was extremely annoyed, feeling like an idiot. Yet, the nightmare-like scene on the Golden Phoenix Terrace had completely shattered his rationality, making him lose his usual composure. That's why he fell into the trap again and again, making a fool of himself.

Fortunately, Yue Wuhuan hadn't seen it.

Otherwise, where would he put his face?

Song Qingshi quietly glanced back at the Alaskan Malamute beside him and whispered a warning: "Don't tell Wuhuan."

An Long looked at him with a grim face, saying nothing.

The fake "Yue Wuhuan" dissolved into shimmering fragments in the flames, and the Golden Phoenix Terrace slowly faded into nothingness. The surrounding scene began to disintegrate—streets, pedestrians, houses—all vanishing like a dream, then reassembling. The surroundings turned dark, and a pungent stench assailed them from all directions.

The world had transformed into a filthy, disgusting swamp—dark and viscous, with the decaying remains of animals floating within.

Song Qingshi covered his nose and took two steps back, yet the stench felt oddly familiar, as if he had encountered it before.

His cultivation was suppressed once more, dropping to the Foundation Establishment stage. The Red Lotus Mystic Fire he conjured was like a tiny flame, rendering many high-level spells unusable.

Song Qingshi thought for a moment, then conjured a few small Red Lotus Mystic Fire flames, turning them into guiding lights that floated through the air, illuminating the surroundings to check for danger. When the light reached the center of the swamp, countless thorny vines extended from the mud, tightly binding a person.

It was Yue Wuhuan.

Under the nightmare's suppression, his mask and the ghost-face snake venom markings had vanished, revealing a beautiful face so pale it was almost bloodless. Thorns coiled around him, tearing his clothes and inflicting countless wounds. His lower body was submerged in the filthy swamp. He was like a beautiful prey caught in a spiderweb, having lost the strength to struggle, quietly awaiting decay and death.

Yue Wuhuan had severe mysophobia and was extremely afraid of dirty things.

This world was his nightmare…

Song Qingshi's heart ached with sadness.

He quickly took off his fox-fur cloak, draped it over his shoulders, and without hesitation, jumped into the swamp. Ignoring the filth, he walked step by step.

His legs sank into the mud, each step difficult. His pristine white robes were stained with large patches of pure black, and the unbearable stench was everywhere, but he didn't care at all.

Guided by the red lotus lights, he stumbled to the thorns, extended his hand, letting the thorns cut countless bloody marks on his skin. He carefully touched this wounded bird, patted his face, and softly called out: "Wuhuan? Wuhuan? Wake up quickly…"

His long eyelashes trembled slightly. The bird in the thorny cage finally awoke from his slumber, opening his beautiful eyes. The filth on his body and the stench around his nose almost made him lose his mind in pain, wanting to faint again. But then he saw a white figure like a dream, and felt a clean herbal scent amidst the filth. Illusion and reality intertwined, making him a little uncertain of where he was. He hoarsely confirmed: "Qingshi? Is that you?"

"It's me!" Song Qingshi, seeing him awaken, said anxiously, "Don't be afraid, I'll get you out!"

"Master, don't come over," Yue Wuhuan said painfully, looking around, "This place is very dirty, and I am also very dirty. You will get dirty…"

Song Qingshi anxiously tore at the thorns while comforting him: "Don't be afraid! This is a dream! It won't be dirty once we're out!"

He violently tore off several thorns, his hands pricked with countless blood dots. Then he came to his senses, realizing he was as foolish as a monkey, forgetting to use the tools he had.

Song Qingshi raised his hand and recalled the Red Lotus Mystic Fire in the air. He carefully maneuvered it around Yue Wuhuan's body, burning off the thorns one by one, then used his hands to tear apart the last few tightly wrapped thorns that had dug into his flesh.

Freed from the restraints, Yue Wuhuan gently fell into his arms.

Song Qingshi held him, quickly checking his injuries, and found that Yue Wuhuan's legs and hands were severely wounded, almost to the point of immobility.

This damned nightmare, why did it have to be so real?

His heart ached terribly, and he couldn't help but ask: "What exactly happened?"

"I don't know," Yue Wuhuan said weakly, "When I woke up, I was already trapped in this filthy swamp. My strength was gone, and my hands and feet were injured, leaving me unable to move. I tried to find you, struggled for a long time, but couldn't escape…"

This feeling of helpless despair was just like when he was bound by the Joyful Union Seal in the past.

He even struggled to the point of death, but opened his eyes to find himself in the same place again.

The Nightmare Mind-Devouring Array was like the cruelest game, using countless weapons to pierce the most vulnerable parts of everyone's heart, hitting every nerve, striking every vital point, making you lose your mind and judgment until you collapse, only to wake up and fall into the same endless cycle.

It wasn't a killing array, but it was more disgusting than one.

Song Qingshi untied the white fox-fur cloak and carefully wrapped the person in his arms, shielding him from all the filth and dirt: "Will this make you feel better?"

The white fox-fur cloak carried the herbal scent of the person, diluting the foul odor.

Yue Wuhuan buried his head in the fox-fur cloak and took a deep breath, feeling much better. His mind gradually cleared, and some strength returned to his limbs. He looked at the dirty swamp around him, closed his eyes in pain, and prepared to get out of Song Qingshi's arms, enduring the deep-seated disgust, and slowly move out.

Song Qingshi stopped him: "Your legs are too badly injured, don't get down… Close your eyes, cover your nose, don't look at the surroundings, let me carry you out on my back."

Without allowing refusal, he placed the person in his arms onto his back.

Yue Wuhuan frantically tried to resist: "I can walk by myself."

"No, it's too dirty here," Song Qingshi unequivocally suppressed his resistance, "You don't like these dirty things, so lie still on my back and don't move."

Yue Wuhuan quieted down, looking at Song Qingshi covered in mud, and said painfully: "I dislike you getting dirty even more…"

"It's fine, my clothes are already dirty," Song Qingshi said, seeing that he wasn't moving around. As he slowly walked towards the shore, he comforted him, "My mysophobia isn't as severe as yours. This stench doesn't affect me much; I can tolerate it. Dirty things aren't impossible to remove. Once we're ashore, a good wash and disinfection will make us clean."

Yue Wuhuan gently leaned down, hugging his shoulders, burying his face in his neck, sniffing the comforting scent, but his heart grew even sadder. He cautiously asked: "What if… it's a stain that can't be washed off?"

Song Qingshi casually replied: "Wash it a few more times, it will always come clean."

Yue Wuhuan buried his head even lower, whimpering: "I can't wash myself clean…"

Song Qingshi promised: "I'll help you."

Hearing this answer, Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but laugh. He knew they weren't thinking of the same thing, but his heart still felt a little sweet. He quietly rubbed against Song Qingshi's soft, loose hair, then secretly kissed his earlobe, wanting to hold that adorable little thing in his mouth, but he couldn't…

Song Qingshi's earlobes were extremely sensitive. He quickly instructed: "Don't touch there, it tickles."

Yue Wuhuan obediently lay still and laughed: "It was just an accident."

Even walking through the foul, reeking mud, as long as they were together, it didn't feel so unbearable.

Song Qingshi's mood lightened. Remembering his embarrassing moment earlier, he couldn't help but ask: "There are pheasants and rabbits in a cage. There are 35 heads and 94 legs in total. How many pheasants and rabbits are there?"

Yue Wuhuan answered without hesitation: "Twelve rabbits and twenty-three chickens. Master, why do you ask this?"

"Nothing." Song Qingshi was a little smug. "I should have known you were a super scholar."

Yue Wuhuan fiddled with the dangling golden hairpin in his hair and asked the question he had been wanting to ask since he saw him: "Master, what is this?"

Song Qingshi finally realized he was still wearing ridiculous women's clothing. His ears were so red they were almost burning. He quickly explained everything that had just happened, emphasizing repeatedly: "I didn't want to look ridiculous. Don't laugh at me."

Yue Wuhuan said gently: "Don't worry, in my eyes, no matter how you look, you are not ridiculous."

Song Qingshi felt relieved, but still a little wronged: "Wuhuan, why did I have to wear women's clothing in your nightmare?"

If he thought he wasn't manly enough, he could try harder…

Yue Wuhuan froze. Was this his nightmare?

…

An Long stood on the shore, staring blankly at the familiar scenery and the familiar story unfolding before him.

But this time, the happy protagonist in the story had changed.

He had thought this was his beautiful dream, a dream where he had obtained that person, gained the status he had longed for day and night, saw the scenery he had pursued every night, and returned to the place of his happiest memories. This dream was even more beautiful than the Illusion Gu, making him reluctant to leave.

It was all wrong…

He was merely watching in a nightmare as he lost everything, his territory slowly eroded, and even the cherished memory that had sustained him through countless near-death situations and all suffering, which he believed was unique to him, was also taken away and painted with someone else's colors.

It turned out that all his perceived efforts were useless.

It turned out that all his perceived sacrifices were a joke.

It turned out that all his perceived devotion was a mirage.

Eight hundred years of adoration, eight hundred years of falling. He knew full well that this feeling was like a moth flying into a flame, gaining nothing. He knew he had made a mistake, yet he still couldn't let go. He could only disguise himself as a dog, wagging his tail and begging for scraps, struggling bitterly, hoping for a glimmer of hope.

All of this was what he deserved, he had it coming.

An Long watched the two people in the swamp, talking and laughing, his eyes stinging with pain.

The long-lost voice reappeared in his mind, like a demon's mockery:

"Wake up, this is your nightmare."