The screams behind him slowly faded, swallowed by the density of the bone forest, leaving behind a silence that was far more terrifying.
Here, in the depths of the Withered Bone Forest, silence was not the absence of sound. It was an entity. The silence pressed against the eardrums, heavy and damp, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for its prey to make one small mistake.
Shen Mu walked slowly.
Without the Soul-Calming Incense, his mental protection layer was zero.
Cold air crept into his pores, not freezing his blood, but freezing his mind. Visual hallucinations began to appear in the corners of his eyes: shadows of snakes slithering between giant ribs protruding from the ground, faces of old people crying blood on the tree bark.
Mental Pollution Level 1: Audio-Visual Distortion, Shen Mu noted clinically, ignoring the whisper of his long-dead mother's voice in his left ear.
He did not stop walking.
For beginners, the first instinct when afraid is to run. However, in the Dream Realm, geography is "Psycho-Reactive". The more you fear and run aimlessly, the longer the path you tread becomes, trapping you in an endless labyrinth of despair.
The way to navigate this place is not with eyes, but with determination. You must convince your subconscious that you know where you are going.
Srek.
A tree root resembling a dry hand suddenly snatched at Shen Mu's ankle.
Shen Mu wasn't surprised. He had seen the root pulsating since ten steps back.
Instead of struggling in panic, which would provoke the Predatory Tree to fully wake up, Shen Mu crouched calmly. With efficient movements, he picked up a sharp stone from the ground and sliced a small vein in his own root—not the tree's.
A single drop of fresh blood fell onto the tree root.
The root stopped gripping, absorbing the blood greedily like a sponge, then slowly loosened, "sated" for a moment.
"One drop of blood to pass the gatekeeper," Shen Mu muttered coldly. "Cheap."
He continued walking. His weak teenage body began to tremble. His breath hitched. Cold sweat soaked his back.
This physical fatigue was real. Years of malnutrition in the sect couldn't be overcome by mental strength alone.
"Hah... hah..."
His knees wobbled. His vision spotted with black. His ears began to ring—a sign that his Sanity was approaching a critical limit.
Shen Mu paused beside the calcified carcass of a giant dream beast. He raised his hand, placing his thumb between two of his own ribs, on the most sensitive nerve point.
Then, he pressed with all his might.
"Khh!"
Stinging pain exploded in his chest, sharp and burning.
His eyes instantly snapped wide open. His focus returned sharp in an instant. Adrenaline flooded his body's system, chasing away the fog of lethargy brought by the mental pollution.
Pain is an anchor, Shen Mu remembered. As long as you can feel pain, you are still in control.
A brutal method. But effective. In the future life, many high-level dream cultivators went mad because they forgot pain, drowning in the false bliss of dream illusions. Shen Mu never forgot. He lived side-by-side with pain.
Ten minutes of walking later, the terrain ahead changed.
The tall bone trees began to thin out, replaced by a vast expanse of black mud. Here and there, bubbles of swamp gas popped softly, releasing green smoke that smelled of ammonia.
This was it. Resentment Swamp.
And right in the middle of the swamp, there was a small mound of earth surrounded by pitch-black water.
Atop the mound, pulsating softly in the rhythm of a slow heartbeat, was the object.
Shen Mu narrowed his eyes.
It was shaped like a cocoon made of woven wet hair and crudely stitched human skin. It was the size of a water barrel. Purple veins twitched on its surface, emitting a sickening dim glow.
Nightmare Fetus - Type: Shadow Parasite
Status: Incubation 98%
The thing was alive. The thing was hungry. And most importantly, the thing was pure. Not yet contaminated by the will of other cultivators.
In his previous life, this fetus hatched naturally two hours later, becoming a wild monster that slaughtered half the outer disciples before escaping to a deeper dream layer. But tonight, its fate belonged to Shen Mu.
"Perfect," Shen Mu whispered. "It is in a critical phase. 'Thirsty' for emotional energy."
Shen Mu didn't approach. He knew approaching the fetus now was suicide. A 10-meter radius around the mound was a death zone where mental gravity would crush an ordinary human brain.
He needed an opener. Someone—or something—that could shatter the fetus's natural defenses and feed it enough fear emotion until it "opened" up to be tamed.
GRAOOO!!
The howl of Dream Hounds sounded from the south—the direction Shen Mu had come from.
This time the sound was closer. Much closer. Accompanied by panicked human screams and flashes of dim light.
"Run! Don't look back! He's dead! Xiao Lin is dead!" The shout was clear. Wang Tai's voice.
Shen Mu climbed up onto one of the bone tree branches hanging over the edge of the swamp. He positioned himself in the thick shadows, staring in the direction of the sound.
His plan was running smoothly without a hitch.
The incense in Wang Tai's hand had worked too well. Its holy light didn't just drive away the darkness but also became a navigation beacon for all monsters in this sector to gather. And because Shen Mu had left a faint trail—scraps of his robe fabric soaked in his own blood along the path—the dogs were unknowingly herding Wang Tai straight toward this swamp.
The bushes at the southern end of the swamp were smashed apart.
Wang Tai jumped out, gasping for breath, his robes torn, his face covered in blood that wasn't his. Behind him, only two other disciples remained of the thirty who had set out earlier.
They were cornered.
In front of them: A black swamp smelling of death. Behind them: Four Dream Hounds with corrosive saliva dripping from their jaws.
"Dead end..." hissed one of the disciples, falling to his knees in despair. "We're finished."
Wang Tai turned, his eyes wildly searching for an escape, until his gaze fell upon the mound in the center of the swamp—upon the pulsating Fetus Cocoon.
"What... what is that thing?" Wang Tai mumbled. Though stupid, his instincts told him that the object in the middle of the swamp radiated extraordinary energy. Maybe a treasure? Or a weapon?
Up in the tree, hidden in the darkness, Shen Mu watched the scene below with a predator's gaze. He gripped the sharp stone tightly in his hand, ready for the decisive moment.
"Welcome to your stage," Shen Mu thought. "Please, dance beautifully."
Shen Mu's chest felt tight, not from fear, but from suppressed enthusiasm. As the dogs prepared to pounce, Shen Mu counted down in his mind.
Three... Two... One...
It was time to feed the fetus its "Appetizer".