To be honest, in his previous life he'd been too busy scrambling for survival to ever feel what it was like to be cared for.
At this moment he was so moved he was practically bawling.
Sure, the way his big sister coddled him felt a bit like a devil's bargain, but as the saying goes: where you sit decides what you think.
As the one being propped up, to him this sister was nothing short of an angel.
He pushed the purse straight back.
"I'm not a kid anymore, Sis."
With a grand money-making plan already in mind, how could he lie back and live off his Elder… er, off his sister? That would disgrace the entire Transmigration Army.
Aisha stared at her little brother, feeling she barely recognized him.
Her eyes misted as she recalled every shared memory. The two had depended on each other since childhood; though not blood siblings, their bond had long surpassed it. Maybe he really had grown up.
"I have to return to my mentor soon. You're still recovering—you must take this money!"
Ignoring Li Mo's protests, she stuffed the pouch into his arms and hugged him tight.
Her warm, jade-smooth body pressed against him, and Li Mo instinctively hugged her back.
So fragrant!
As if suddenly remembering something, she blushed and sprang apart.
"I—I'm just glad you're all right. When I have time I'll come see you again!"
With that, her figure hurried away.
'In that much of a rush?'
Only Li Mo was left standing there in a daze.
The alchemy shop was definitely out of the question for now; he needed to map out his next steps.
Moon City's hierarchy was a classic pyramid.
At the apex stood the Moon Elf Queen—also the Clan Chief—followed by the Temple and the Council of Elders that ruled the entire Moon Territory.
The temple priests, devout followers of the goddess of night, were tasked with spreading her faith, and the dissemination of the Dream Web was crucial.
Yet its inherent limitations kept it lukewarm at best.
Over the past millennium the Goddess's worship had even begun to ebb, and other deities had crept into the Moon Territory.
To Li Mo, the root cause was simple: rigid thinking and path dependence.
For thousands of years the Dream World had seen almost no innovation.
Such brainless power-fantasy scripts had felt fresh to long-lived elves at first, but after centuries they inevitably grew stale.
Consequently, older elves now rarely bothered entering the Dream Web at all.
Watching their faithful drain away, the temple's high Elders grew anxious. Decades ago a new model emerged.
Once a year the Temple held a contest, soliciting outstanding works from the public and adding them to the Dream Corridor.
It amounted to the platform pushing traffic to quality creations, with winners receiving lavish rewards.
Admittedly a decent innovation, yet without solving the core problem it was only drinking poison to quench thirst.
The annual Flower Dance Festival also served as the day of the Temple's contest. This year's festival was in three days, so preparations had to start now.
He rummaged through the room until he finally fished a Formation Plate from a trunk.
It looked as though it had been gathering dust for ages.
Carved from the wood of the ancient Soul Tree, it bore a hexagram sigil with a moon motif at its center—the medium for entering the Dream World, essentially a login device.
Once one became a priest or Dream Apostle, entry was possible through meditation, but for now he was still an ordinary person.
He lay on the bed, placed the plate on his chest, and let his consciousness sink into slumber.
A sensation of weightlessness swept over him.
When he opened his eyes again, he stood in a vast forest.
Fantastic plants of every hue, towering primeval trees, and nameless beasts bustled all around.
Recalling fragments of memory, he willed a pair of cicada-thin wings to sprout from his back.
With a gentle flutter he slowly rose off the ground.
Excitement surged through him—this was incredible. Though a dream, the realism was off the charts.
In his previous life he had often dreamt of flight, and now, reliving that classic thrill, he zipped joyfully through the air.
After a while he soared higher for a better view. At the forest's center loomed an enormous city.
This was the mirror world of Moon City, the Dream World's main realm—said to be a projection of the goddess of night's divine kingdom.
Scores of elves flitted across the sky.
A colossal portal hovered above the city, leading to the Dream Corridor; at its far end one could step into one's personal dream realm.
He flew toward the portal.
Inside lay a tunnel like a cosmic wormhole, dazzling colors bombarding Li Mo's eyes until he was dizzy.
Countless Dream World entrances lined the passage.
The entire corridor consisted of these gateways, arrayed like advertising billboards.
Which, in truth, was exactly what they were—equivalent to platform ads in his previous life, giving superior works better exposure.
He drifted about, examining them with keen interest.
All around, elves darted to and fro; some clustered in groups, chatting excitedly.
"Hey, look—Great Master Gorin's new piece, 'Demon Realm Invasion.' Supposedly took him two whole years."
"A Great Master's work? Must be top-tier—definitely checking that out."
"Pfft, sounds like another tedious combat dream. Look at this one—adapted from the famous wandering bard's 'Princess and the Seven Knights.'"
"Tried it. Boring. I'm going back to my 'Ancient Labyrinth.'"
"You wouldn't know quality if it bit you—stick to your fossilized trash."
"Hah, typical pig who can't appreciate fine bran."
The group quickly turned into trolls; fortunately combat was disabled here, or fists would already be flying.
Li Mo watched with amusement—so the otherworld had its own internet flamers. Seems the competitive streak of carbon-based life transcended dimensions.
He drifted a bit farther.
Then, choosing a Dream World gate at random, he decided to sample it and entered.
Its title: 'Son of a Hero.'
The story began.
He was merely a farmer tilling the soil—yet secretly the last descendant of an ancient hero-king.
Then monsters invaded.
In the crisis he Awakened his inherited Bloodline, saved the village Elder's daughter, became the village hero, and proceeded to slaughter every foe in sight.
To be honest, the scale was epic, but after the opening thrill it devolved into endless cycles of fight, rescue, fight, rescue city.
No other mechanics—just hack from start to finish, bask in adoration, earn praise from the village chief, the town mayor, the king.
Along the way he'd pick up a girl or two, and that was it.
The world frame was vast, yet the content was threadbare—mostly linear equations plotlines.