Chapter 110: Am I Trapped in an Enormous Dream?

"Where’s that fool? Still not up?" Wen Jinge munched on her flatbread. Although she had already ceased eating, the ritual of daily life remained essential.

“I don’t know,” Ling Yi rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. “I saw a shadow last night when I went out—might’ve been him, but I have no idea where he went.”

All the food came from the storage pouch. Originally, Wen Xueshan intended to treat them, but Wen Jinge declined.

Among the group, only three needed to eat.

Qiao Yu had been suppressed from advancing by pressure, so she hadn’t reached sixth-grade cultivation.

As for Wang Xi, Wen Jinge never expected her to practice cultivation; she was naturally indifferent.

Then there was Ling Yi, who had no cultivation at all.

“Master, I have something to say,” Wang Xi mumbled vaguely. “Master, look at me.”

Wen Jinge glanced at her a few times. “You changed your hairpin! It looks nice.”

“That’s not it! Master, I want you to see if I’m dead or not.”

Early in the morning, your disciple sits across from you eating breakfast and starts with that—how could you not be scared?

“Are you out of your mind?” Wen Jinge groaned.

“No, Master…” Wang Xi babbled on, recounting the experiences their senior and junior siblings had encountered on the road.

Wen Jinge listened quietly without saying much. “Be vigilant as always. By the way, you chased the Sacred Son here yesterday. Did you see him? Wen Xueshan said he also came. Could he be behind this?”

“No,” Lu Wei ate silently.

The task of teaching was arduous. While others were upgrading, the fate of Qiao Yu, under his guidance, depended solely on fortune, as he couldn’t tell how many times it was himself awake, not Qiao Yu.

It seemed Qiao Yu’s advancement could only continue back at the Xuanyun Sect.

His mind wandered to other matters. He disliked the man called Sorrow and Joy Buddha. He had been driven away last night; perhaps he left in anger?

Sorrow and Joy—what a misfit of a name, neither sorrowful nor joyful truly fitting.

“I don’t know,” taciturn Yang Wennan shook his head. He only felt strange but couldn’t recall why. At that moment, a small hand grasped his, “Brother, you’re of the Soul Clan’s bloodline. You can’t just close your eyes; you must comprehend.”

Though Ling Yi was still a child, his conduct throughout the journey was undeniable; no one dared dismiss his words.

“Comprehend?” Yang Wennan seemed to realize something and opened his eyes, revealing mostly whites. “Master, I saw it—it was Junior Brother who took away Sorrow and Joy Buddha.”

“Not me, right?” Ling Yi muttered, perplexed. “I opened the door to get some air. I only saw a figure walking away, and it was because you disturbed me that I went out.”

“Me? Disturb you?”

Ling Yi nodded, his innocent face delivering a startling conclusion with utmost seriousness: “Yes, all the Soul Clan’s power is within you. Otherwise, why do you think your eyes and hands are injured?”

That actually made sense.

“So?” Wen Jinge asked.

“So…” Ling Yi pointed to his dark circles, “you all keep dreaming back into the past. I’m forced to watch—sometimes it’s the master’s dream, sometimes the grandmaster’s, the eldest senior brother’s, the third senior brother’s, the little senior sister’s, oh, and the second senior brother’s too. My mind gets too chaotic, so I have to wake up.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Wen Jinge gently rubbed his little head. Ling Yi shivered.

“Master… I—I’m the one who took away Sorrow and Joy Buddha,” he said anxiously, struggling to find the right words. “No, not me, not me. It looked like me, but it wasn’t.”

“Need help?” Yang Wennan looked at the small hand still held in his.

Just moments ago, it seemed he and Ling Yi had formed a special kind of connection.

“Yes, please!” Ling Yi nodded, their fingertips touching. “Brother might get tired, but that Wen is coming.”

“Ancestor.” Liang Si opened the door. Outside stood Wen Xueshan.

Before leaving yesterday, Wen Jinge had called him to rise, so he was standing.

Seeing Liang Si, he smiled and nodded. “Greetings, Patriarch.”

Because they were Wen Jinge’s disciples, she was called Ancestor, and these disciples had thus become the so-called Patriarchs in the city’s gossip.

Though awkward, it was best to follow local customs. Besides, their master told them she had been mistaken for someone else. For now, the best way to handle the outside world was to keep this group stable and work things out herself.

“Master is cultivating. May I ask what business you have?”

Liang Si scanned the tray in his hands. The black-robed men each carried a tray holding a complete set of splendid ceremonial robes, likely for a ritual.

“The Ten Thousand Ghosts Festival is about to begin. Every year, the younger generation replaces the Ancestor in the ceremony. This year, with the Ancestor’s return, she should attend personally.”

“Ten Thousand Ghosts Festival?” The name sounded ominous.

“Yes. The Ancestor must not forget this festival.” Wen Xueshan murmured doubtfully. “Since you Patriarchs are the Ancestor’s disciples, if you enjoy festivities, you may also attend.”

“Understood.” Liang Si nodded, pointing to a nearby clearing. “Leave the clothes here for now. When Master wakes, I’ll bring them in.”

“Thank you, Patriarch.” Wen Xueshan bowed respectfully, then kowtowed toward Wen Jinge’s direction. “Please remember, the festival begins at midnight tonight. I will send someone early to escort the Ancestor.”

“Noted. You may rise now.” Liang Si was indifferent to their habit of kneeling.

Their etiquette was thorough—absolute obedience to the revered, like palace guards without individual thought.

“See you later, Patriarch.”

Liang Si nodded.

Once the group left, he entered. “Did you see clearly?”

“That monk is all around us, but we can’t see him.” Yang Wennan put down his hand. Weakness showed on his pale face; the hand that had touched Ling Yi trembled.

Perhaps due to his ‘divine’ nature, Ling Yi was unaffected.

“Can’t see?” For some reason, he recalled the courtyard Wang Xi had first noticed. If not for her, he wouldn’t have noticed a courtyard nearby.

On the barren land, any structure, no matter how small, was visible—especially one shaded by lush trees, glaringly obvious. Yet he hadn’t seen it.

“Any thoughts?”

“Master… do you think we’re in a particularly vast dream right now?”

Wen Jinge shivered.

When she first transmigrated, she remained calm precisely because she didn’t believe she’d crossed worlds and considered her ‘non-existence’ as mere daily adjustment.

“How so?”

“Maybe this is all a larger lie created by that self-proclaimed god in a state of mental chaos.”

“Does he still want the Master to find him and kill him?” Wang Xi asked.