"Dreamloss Syndrome?"
Under the blazing autumn sun, the old estate in Yacheng remained blissfully cool.
Tong Ting looked down, contemplating the bizarre spiritus insect in his palm that fluttered desperately without ever managing to break free. He could not help but sigh in distress.
"Why has there been more drama in Yacheng these past two years than in the first half of my life combined? It feels like every person and ghost around is looking to stir up trouble—" He paused and glanced toward the old man lounging by the pond. "Dad, did you make a terrible mistake when choosing this plot back then? Is something wrong with our family's feng shui?"
"Indeed. You finally noticed?"
Tong Yuan cast a sidelong glance at his irreverent heir, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "How about I pick out an auspicious burial plot and bury you to offset the misfortune? I can even let you have my aged huanghuali coffin at a discount. First come, first served, after all."
"I was wrong!"
Tong Ting instantly backed down. He had no desire to tumble and roll down the mountainside the moment he stepped outside. If he kept talking back, his father was fully capable of making him roll all the way into the Nandu River.
"Why don't you take a look with your discerning eyes, old man? What on earth is this thing?"
He opened his fingers and tossed the insect Tong Hua had brought back into the air. Instantly, the spiritus insect spread its wings and flew about haphazardly, yet no matter how it darted around, it never strayed far from the old man's lounge chair.
Only when Tong Yuan reached out a hand did it finally hover and alight upon his palm.
It folded its cicada-like wings.
Just like a real insect, it groomed its antennae and horns.
Every now and then, it let out a faint chirp, as if calling to its kin.
Though it was merely an anomalous phenomenon mutated from lingering spiritus fragments, it behaved just like a living creature.
Tong Yuan lowered his gaze.
At that moment, beneath the scrutiny of those aged, murky eyes, a Celestial-Human [Gaze] far surpassing Tong Ting's began.
It did not rely on personal insight to pierce disguises and concealments. Instead, through the act of his observation, it inverted reality, compelling everything before his eyes to willingly reveal its true essence.
Phenomena unfolded, essence aligned, and then—the true [Name] manifest!
For a fleeting instant, the spiritus insect on the old man's fingertip dispersed once more, turning into a shifting halo of light. As the spiritus expanded, the information it bore completed its transcription.
Within the shifting rainbow light, countless impulses surged like a tide—wanting to eat, wanting to sleep, wanting pleasure, wanting women, wanting men, wanting to slaughter everyone who offended their eyes...
When consciousness dissolved and the soul collapsed, what precipitated within the spiritus were the dregs: the mutation and vitalization of human desire.
This was the 'desire' the afflicted left behind in the mortal realm.
"What about their consciousness?" Tong Ting frowned. "Where did their consciousness and sense of self go?"
"Isn't it right there in the name?"
Tong Yuan countered, "Dreamloss Syndrome... Those dreams have already taken away their consciousness and ego. Or rather, shouldn't we say that their consciousness and ego have dissolved into those ethereal, illusory dreams?"
Once a person held no lingering attachment or affection for the mortal world, they would turn away, walking toward an endless, beautiful dream, craving a single night of joy and peace...
Freeing themselves from the shackles of flesh and life, such moths hatched from within the soul.
The sweet dream of turning into butterflies continued to this day.
"A Golden Millet Dream, indeed."
Tong Yuan sighed softly. "A gift and lingering poison from Lord Huaxu of old. An invitation from the Dream Caster calling upon those who suffer to renounce the mortal realm and journey to Neverland."
This was the true identity of Dreamloss Syndrome—a fragment preserved from the Age of Chaos down to the present day, a trivial fraction of the great and terrible deeds wrought by the kings of that era.
In that ancient epoch before the Supreme Good had fully manifested, a chaotic world following the fall of the gods harbored madness and terror far beyond what people of today could fathom.
Even the tyrannical, cruel despots of the subsequent Eternal Empire could hardly hold a candle to them.
After all, anyone capable of leaving their mark on history possessed some extraordinary craft of their own.
As representatives of that era, the kings of the Age of Chaos each possessed world-shaking intellect coupled with hearts blacker than hounds and donkeys. It was a gathering of monsters, where immortals and horrors stood shoulder to shoulder.
The Fire Thief sought to monopolize all the flames in the world; the Web Weaver wished to ensnare all living beings within the destiny she spun; the Illuminator sought to gather the souls of all creation, igniting them into a second sun.
And that Dream Caster—the monarch hailed as the Master of the Golden Millet Dream, Lord Huaxu—stood on equal footing with them.
In fact, he went even further.
The former Lord of Dreams and Desires was not content with the tedium and boredom of waking hours. In his madness, he superimposed his dream realm over reality, fusing the two to forge what was known as the Paradise of Myriad Phenomena—purporting to satisfy all desires and embody every beauty in existence.
It was like a paradise on earth.
In that dreamlike golden era, the cruel revelry lasted for ninety-one years. Untold multitudes converged from all directions, willingly surrendering everything in the waking world merely to live out a grand, fleeting dream... until the waking moment arrived. The dream overlapping with reality tore away a portion of reality itself as it collapsed into ruin and void.
Lord Huaxu and his Paradise of Myriad Phenomena disintegrated and vanished without a trace.
Yet the catastrophes and seismic fallout it triggered continued to profoundly affect the entire world to this day. Ever since, fractures appeared in the consciousness and souls of sentient beings as though born with them, and some were born with fractured, incomplete minds—inherently deficient from birth.
"Strictly speaking, Dreamloss Syndrome isn't a disease. Rather, it resembles a ritual of Higher Calling, only one that ran out of control long ago and has no one presiding over it."
Tong Yuan said slowly, "Back in the Age of Chaos, what you and I call Dreamloss Syndrome was Lord Huaxu's proclamation and invitation to the entire world. After tasting the bliss within that sweet dream, those trapped by reality and suffering would transform into butterflies and plunge into that eternal illusion. Just like moths instinctively chasing a flame. What is an unmitigated disaster for our era was once a coveted gospel for countless people in the Age of Chaos."
"But thousands of years have passed, haven't they? No, time in the Age of Chaos was distorted—it might even be over ten thousand years..."
Tong Ting frowned. "Lord Huaxu was obliterated alongside the Paradise of Myriad Phenomena long ago. So where is this invitation pointing to now?"
"Isn't that the crux of the problem?"
Tong Yuan sighed softly. Thus he [Observed], and thus he [Interpreted], discerning the faint lingering clues from this tiny insect to trace them back to their origin.
Amidst a long, dead silence, the halo of light on his fingertip shifted ceaselessly, manifesting grotesque and fantastical scenes.
Uncanny sights that did not belong to the mortal realm.
At one point, a blurry profile of a face surfaced, seemingly noticing something, turning back to look before vanishing... Two crossed hands appeared, each possessing six fingers, but when one of the six twitched, the image dissipated once more... Countless stars intertwined, coalescing into an aged, decrepit woman who, sensing Tong Yuan's tracing, glared coldly toward him...
"Whew!"
Tong Yuan chuckled, amused. "Quite a few people looking into this—the Faceless of the Thousand Islands, the Six Fingers of the Empire, the old hag of the Qiu family... Mm, let me see, there are even a few Corrupting Stains stirring up trouble in the mix. Ha, the Dragon Sacrifice Society has a hand in this too? Now that the waters are muddy, everyone is reaching in, aren't they?"
Watching the shifting rainbow light and the bizarre, crackling sounds, Tong Ting instinctively took a step back, terrified that his meager cultivation would get dragged into the mess.
Yet seeing his father acting so brazenly, he was puzzled—why was the old man being so high-profile this time?
He wasn't even pretending anymore?!
"Oh, don't worry. I'm using that old crone from the Ma family's 'Mingguan.' Gotta say, it works like a charm—"
Tong Yuan's right hand held a thin, ancient tome of fate-reading. At that moment, the tome was withering and crumbling away at high speed, turning to dust as the destinies recorded within burned fiercely like firewood.
Acting recklessly under someone else's identity brought an indescribable joy.
It wasn't as though Magu could crawl out of her grave to condemn him, could she?
Tong Ting's eyelids twitched violently, words caught in his throat.
Not that he wanted to reprimand his father's shameless behavior; he just wanted to tell him to use it sparingly and leave some behind so he could try it next time.
Unfortunately, Tong Yuan showed no intention of conserving it. In fact, he was standing up!
The Mingguan tome in his hand deteriorated at a visible rate. Without the slightest remorse, he squandered someone else's ancestral savings. Disregarding all interference, he relied on the Heavenly Hearing lineage's instinct to counter chaos with chaos, tracing the turbulence before him.
Countless scenes skipped and shifted past one another.
In the end, for a fleeting instant, mist seemed to rise.
Distant singing echoed, mingled with the muffled surge of seawater.
In a fleeting glimpse, a pale face bobbed from the sea, wearing a bizarre smile, drifting along with the current toward the distance.
Then another, and another, and yet another...
Countless corpses floated across the surface of the sea, carrying blissful smiles as they drifted into the ocean's depths. In the innermost reaches of the layered mist, the silhouette of an island loomed.
An illusion, or reality?
It was truly hard to tell, but divination through the Way of Aether was always like this. Even when the results were laid out before one's eyes, there remained many strange allegories that required interpretation.
Yet in that instant, what drew Tong Ting's eye was the towering spire upon the island that seemed to reach into the heavens—and the uncanny shadow coiled around the tower.
The shadow turned its head, suddenly glancing back.
Instantly, the vision abruptly shattered, sinking back into deeper chaos. As if triggering some backlash, the spiritus insect disintegrated into ash.
Immediately after, the fate tome shuddered and burst into flame without a spark.
Only a prolonged silence remained.
"The Harmonious Lord?" Tong Ting murmured softly.
"Not just the Tower of the Harmonious Lord, but also the concealment and tampering of Corrupting Stain aberrations. No, the underlying essence also involves Weiyang and the Abyssal Depths—you missed the singing and the dark sky." Tong Yuan shook his head, expressionless. "The one stirring up the storm behind the scenes might just be a very big fish."
Tong Ting fell silent.
After a long time, he let out a self-deprecating sigh. "Aether, huh..."
Aether thrived on observing and seeing, but likewise, it was undone by observing and seeing.
Who knew what kind of monstrosity one might spot with a single glance? If you saw nothing, fine; but what if you actually did?
Even Tong Yuan, operating behind a stolen identity, had nearly suffered a backlash.
He had originally thought some petty clown of the heterodox paths was stirring up trouble, but one scoop into the dirt revealed that the hidden landmine was ridiculously massive!
It involved Lord Huaxu and the Paradise of Myriad Phenomena, backed by the mischief of Corrupting Stains beneath the Vortex, with the Abyssal Depths and Weiyang behind them...
God only knew what else was mixed in.
For a moment, he began to feel a headache coming on.
"Why the long face? Look at you, jumping at shadows," Tong Yuan looked back at him and chuckled. "In this world, with Swarms slaughtering across the fields, White Stags murdering for wealth, Entropy setting the mountains ablaze, and Tianyuan driving beasts to devour men, when has it ever been Aether's turn to arm-wrestle anyone?"
"At least Yacheng is involved." Tong Ting gave a wry smile. "We can't just leave it alone, can we?"
"That's why I wanted you and Sheng Nian separated. Sheng Nian manages the family businesses, handles investments, does charity, gets things done—he has the skill, the capability, and the standing for it. But you can't. The more Aether tangles with human affairs, the deeper you sink into the quagmire, making it impossible to take the long view. This isn't telling you to sit on your hands; it's about understanding where it's easiest to intervene..."
Tong Yuan reached out his hand once more. His palm, covered in wrinkles and age spots, gently pinched the air, as if catching hold of a faint, drifting strand of spider silk.
From the tangled mess of countless threads, he plucked out the one crucial strand.
Then—
A sudden yank!
In that split second, a piercing sound like an infant's wail rang out.
An auditory hallucination!
Yet immediately following it was a wave of shrill shrieks, like cicadas buzzing in high summer, rising and falling in succession from the distant mountain forests!
The deafening hum was unrelenting.
Insects!
A massive swarm of spiritus insects screeched, vibrating their wings, and soared into the sky!
Under Aether's malicious pulling and prodding, leveraging the fleeting glimpse just observed to impersonate the source, Tong Yuan issued a command.
In an instant, across the entire coastal region of the Federation, countless latent spiritus moths fell into a frenzy, halting all processes of infection and transmission as they took flight.
Amidst piercing shrieks, they converged by the tens of thousands like a raging torrent, fluttering wildly and aimlessly!
It was as though someone had suddenly kicked over a hidden hornet's nest.
The swarm went berserk!
Countless moths swept past, nearly dimming the daylight.
They blotted out the sun and sky.
Tong Ting's expression turned grave. Had it already developed to such a terrifying scale?!
"All right." The old man on the lounge chair waved his hand lazily and yawned. "Now that the hornet's nest has been kicked over, our job is done. Leave the remaining chance to show off to the young folks."
"The young folks?" Tong Ting was perplexed.
Yet when he looked up, he saw an iron curtain of dark clouds drifting across the horizon. A hasty glance caught his attention.
Dazed for a moment, he let out a wry sigh.
"It's Embers, after all..."
In the sultry afternoon, the cool breeze vanished.
From the distance came the rumble of thunder.
It was raining!
***
At that moment, in Xinquan.
Thunder clapped and lightning flared; heaven and earth turned dark!
Within the howling gale, an iron curtain of clouds formed from countless vapors of quicksilver blanketed everything.
Brilliant silver light overlapped with the fragmented rainbows refracted from the blazing sun. Along the edges of the vast shadow cast over the earth, a colorful, vibrant rainbow fringe seemed to trail like the hem of a skirt.
The iron curtain hung like a canopy spanning the firmament, cloaking the mortal world.
Stirring silver light danced across the sky—alluring yet grim, cold and ferocious.
"How beautiful."
Inside the workshop with its roof dome retracted, Ji Jue felt the blustery wind hitting his face. Looking up into the distance, he could not help but smile. "How does it feel, Isis?"
Isis remained silent, uttering not a word.
High above, amidst the silver clouds, a blurry face flickered faintly into view, casting a glance down at the mortal realm, turning toward her creator, controller, and binder, as if her expression shifted.
Or perhaps it did not.
Above the swirling cloud bank, infinite quicksilver danced, unfolding layer upon layer, blooming like a lotus. Even if, compared to her final form simulated within the Tower of Myriad Phenomena, this was far too cramped and narrow—not even a ten-thousandth of it, merely a vessel-like container...
At the same time, it bore no shackles whatsoever.
She had regained her freedom.
When a torrential silver downpour cascaded from the heavens, a fine, dense curtain of rain made of thousands of threads draped over everything. Amidst the boundless silver light, Ji Jue seemed to see a figure before him.
Ethereal and distant.
Looking at him.
The oncoming gale seemed to soften, gentle as an embrace.
Then, that figure turned and walked deeper into the storm, vanishing from sight.
A deluge of silver rain poured down, irrigating Xinquan, washing over the stunned faces lining the streets as countless silver threads spread from the rain.
The Hand of Isis, unleashed!
Pedestrians on the streets, employees busy at work indoors, assembly-line workers drenched in sweat, passengers sleepy or expectant in buses...
Thousands upon thousands of threads extended, sweeping past, parting upon the slightest contact.
Some remained completely oblivious; some felt a faint chill at the back of their necks; others began coughing violently, jolted awake from their dreams drenched in cold sweat, looking around in bewilderment, unsure of where they were. Still others, already drowned too deep in their dreams, gave no reaction at all.
Viewed through spiritus vision, one would see countless flashes of light rising and falling one after another across the area blanketed by the storm.
That was the inverse application of Fluid Alchemy—an art developed to this day to subdue spiritus with matter, forged specifically to counter all spiritus mutations.
Solid Alchemy!
At that moment, boundless quicksilver descended from the skies, only to rise into the air once more, returning to that glamorous, dazzling cloud layer, carrying countless tiny 'grains of sand.'
Just as a flash flood washed away all buildings and cities from the land, once the silver storm swept through, all the anomalous spiritus left behind by the spiritus plague was sealed within grains of quicksilver sand smaller than specks of dust, carried back up into the heavens.
At the same time, it perceived all living things, locked onto all targets, and ultimately contained all anomalies.
The anomalous spiritus on those oblivious carriers was plucked away by the threads of the Hand of Isis, and the plague newly parasitizing their souls was forcibly severed. The slight loss of spiritus could be restored with a good night's sleep.
As for the terminally ill empty shells who had completely lost consciousness, before the sediment within could form into moths, it was thoroughly snuffed out, killed, and extracted!
As the cloud layer drifted slowly across the sky, the storm spread outward, like an invisible plow sweeping inch by inch across the Haizhou wasteland.
It made no effort to conceal its existence, nor did it embellish this unfathomable power.
It did not even seek anyone's consent or permission.
A merciless purification had begun!
"A pity the name 'Hand of Isis' is already taken," Ji Jue stroked his chin, musing with sincere emotion. "Still, since this can serve as a carrier and container for you to move freely, by that logic, why don't we call it the Foot of Isi—"
Before he could finish, he felt an icy glare piercing down from the clouds, accompanied by a biting chill and irritation that crackled amid the thunder and lightning.
Soon, a sweet, smiling voice sounded, "Sir, if you have no need for your mouth, I can help you rip it off."
*Why is it that every time I start wanting to respect you, you have to open your mouth?!*
"Fine, fine—" Ji Jue sighed helplessly, abandoning his sudden stroke of genius. "Since it hangs high above the sky, how about we call it the Crown of Isis?"
In the surviving historical records of the mortal realm, depictions of that goddess showed her crown evolving from a solar totem into the form of a royal throne.
If one translated the relevant hieroglyph into the Federation tongue, it could be called 'Throne.'
Its meaning signified a deity descending into the mortal realm to reign supreme over all.
A heaven-bestowed sovereignty!
"Such a name suits you well, doesn't it?"
Isis remained silent.
In the quiet wind, a distant echo seemed to drift back, sounding like a soft sigh, yet also like a faint smile, impossible to distinguish.
Only the silver clouds shifted silently as those blurry eyes lowered slightly, docilely donning the heavens upon her head like a crown.
Then, boundless metallic radiance rose once more, the clouds unfurling again as they carried the all-sweeping storm of metal step by step toward the distant wasteland.
Weed-choked mountains, overflowing rivers, parched earth, foul swamps...
Even having seen identical scenes countless times through monitors and cameras, witnessing such barren and ruined landscapes in person still stirred an uncontrollable repulsion—even disgust—within the spirit of the workshop.
She could not understand why anyone would care about such scenery.
Nor could she comprehend why anyone would cherish such things like treasures.
All that hatched from the sludge were the endless swarms of moths rising before her eyes. The shameless insects fluttered in blotting numbers, chirping triumphantly before her, only deepening her displeasure!
And so, Isis raised her hand once more.
In his courtyard, there was no need for pests!
Chapter 480