The Laws of Deduction

So, viewed from an outside perspective, Panlong City looked like this? An ancient city, indistinct and shimmering atop the plateau? Yet as he focused his gaze, he realized the ancient city was constantly coalescing and dispersing—clear for an occasional moment, but vague and hazy most of the time, reduced to a mere rough outline. He asked the mirror what was going on. The mirror offered only one explanation: "It is too massive, and size brings its own difficulties. Materializing it requires an astounding amount of energy, making it exceedingly difficult to manifest fully. Furthermore, magnificent though this City of the Undead may be, it definitely isn't complete yet." "Complete?" "Every realm of souls has its own laws to obey. The more complete the laws, the more successful the realm of souls, naturally." Laws? He Lingchuan repeated the word silently in his mind, then asked, "How can a realm of souls become complete?" "Either it slowly evolves on its own over time, or it relies on external aid," the mirror said. "Take me, for instance: I want to borrow and learn from this City of the Undead. It must have its own ways to evolve as well." Speaking of external aid, He Lingchuan immediately recalled the things the divine bone necklace had swallowed over time. If it wasn't the foundation stone of an ancient immortal's grotto-abode, it was a heavenly elixir, or the molt of an ancient greater demon like Zhu Erniang. In other words, the Panlong City illusion within the Dafang Pot was also seeking ways to perfect its laws and evolve itself? The mirror asked him again, "Do you enter the City of the Undead often?" He Lingchuan nodded. "When I sleep at night, I enter the dream of the City of the Undead every few days." "A dream? Wahahaha—I already told you, that's a realm of souls! A realm of souls!" The mirror roared with uncontrollable laughter. If it had arms, it would probably be pounding the table right now. "What kind of blockhead mistakes a realm of souls for a dream?! Oh man, are you trying to kill me with laughter?" He Lingchuan bared his teeth in a smile at it and cracked his knuckles with two sharp snaps. Several breaths later. "Under normal circumstances, your dreams revolve around you as the primary subject," the mirror said sullenly. "You've spent so much time in the City of the Undead—did it ever feel like it revolved around you?" He Lingchuan considered it and shook his head. He was merely a part of it. "Then why can I only enter when I fall asleep?" "That is simply a law set by the realm of souls. In most cases, it is designed to keep others from intruding or prying." There certainly were plenty of people coveting the Dafang Pot. He Lingchuan had wanted to ask for a long time: "What kind of place is a realm of souls, exactly?" "Shouldn't you be able to tell just from the name? A realm of souls is a haven for the spirits of the dead who refuse to fade away. Most are naturally formed. The majority of the deceased souls residing within a realm of souls don't even know they're dead; they still live and work just as they did in life." It paused for a beat. "A realm of souls does not exist in reality, nor does it belong to the netherworld. It forms a world of its own—a sanctuary for the departed. But no matter what, it is not a dream! It doesn't have a single copper coin's worth of connection to your absurd, foolish dreams!" He Lingchuan recalled a bizarre tale he had read in a collection of supernatural miscellany back at Wenxuan Pavilion: A traveler encountered ferocious wolves in the wilderness and fled toward distant lights, escaping into a small town nestled in a valley. Life there was peaceful and serene, with smiles on everyone's faces. The warmhearted townsfolk not only helped him drive off the wolves, but also provided him with food and lodging, and a pretty girl even poured her heart out to him. The man fell asleep in sweet dreams, only to wake the next morning lying on a giant boulder—a couple of rolls either way, and he would have plunged into a deep chasm. All around him were weeds and barren trees; not a trace of human habitation remained. He scrambled to leave the valley. Only later did he learn that a volcanic eruption had engulfed the town at the foot of the mountain ten years prior, claiming over a thousand lives. He had no idea what he had really encountered, and no one believed him when he spoke of it. Some who heard his tale went into the valley to search, but found nothing. The "ghost town" never appeared again. Hearing the mirror's words now, that traveler had perhaps wandered into a naturally formed realm of souls. "Realms of souls can be natural or artificially created?" "The world occasionally gives birth to a realm of souls, mostly because too many people died in a short span of time, sending their resentment soaring to the heavens. But that sort of realm of souls is very unstable, liable to vanish silently any day," the mirror explained. "Man-made realms of souls are different. They're more stable, but they require a vessel." The vessel for the mirror world was undeniably the mirror itself. So what was the vessel for Panlong City? It had to be the Dafang Pot, right? "And because of that, once the status quo there is disrupted, the resentment of the deceased spirits will suddenly erupt." The mirror then asked him, "Wait a second, did you alter the cause and effect there too?" He Lingchuan naturally nodded again. He had already thrown reality and the dream wildly off track—how could cause and effect not have changed? The mirror gasped in astonishment. "Then just how chaotic have the laws of the City of the Undead become? Why hasn't it collapsed yet?" "It's orderly and doing just fine," He Lingchuan retorted crossly. "It's barely distinguishable from the real world. Unlike that mirror world of yours, which feels awkward as hell." The mirror huffed twice. "To let you mess around like that without falling apart means it must have a tremendous source of energy. Sigh, I'm dying of envy. But at the same time, it also requires even greater karmic power. Otherwise, if it collapses one day, even your soul will be buried inside and unable to escape. Don't say I didn't warn you." He Lingchuan took its warning seriously. "In other words, the greater the impact I have on the City of the Undead, the more powerful the karmic power I must find for it?" "Not entirely accurate, but close enough." He Lingchuan nodded. No wonder. No wonder his entries had stopped after those first two times, leaving him dreamless for so long, until the divine bone necklace devoured the foundation stone of the immortal's grotto-abode—only then did the real Panlong City open to him. Sigh. Even though he now understood the concept of a realm of souls, he was still used to calling it the "Panlong dreamscape." So it was because the Dafang Pot had obtained karmic power from the outside world, helping the Panlong dreamscape complete more of its laws so that it could withstand the changes He Lingchuan brought to that entire dream world. The deeper he embedded himself in the dream and the more actions he took, the greater his influence on it naturally became. According to the mirror, a realm of souls ought to remain rigid and unchanging, yet the Panlong dreamscape had branched onto a different trajectory because of him, beginning to diverge from real history. This required increasingly potent power of evolution. If it could no longer sustain itself, at best it would stall; at worst, it would collapse. The mirror's warning was no joke. It seemed that in the future, whenever the divine bone necklace set its sights on something, he would have to think long and hard and do everything in his power to obtain it. Additionally, the mirror had mentioned that the Panlong illusion likely possessed a tremendous source of energy. What was that about? Unfortunately, that question had even less of an answer. He could only return to reality, eyeing the mirror. "So aside from doing your duty as a heart-protecting mirror, what other uses do you have?" Dealing with this mirror had been no walk in the park, so why hadn't he felt it was of much use ever since subduing it? "I can also expand to be used as a shield! General You used me that way in the past!" the mirror pitched itself. "And whenever I'm damaged, so long as I'm replenished in time, I can slowly repair myself." "Oh, and I have mirror reflection! When an enemy's attack lands on the mirror or shield surface, so long as it isn't a spell or divine ability, I can deflect a portion of the force back." "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction—did you really need to bring that up as something special? Fine, you're somewhat useful, I suppose." He Lingchuan asked, "And where did those evil spirits taking your orders come from?" "They're wandering, solitary ghosts I took in after I woke up. There are only three left now," the mirror said. "This world isn't much better than it was two hundred years ago; wandering ghosts of the newly dead are everywhere. If I hadn't taken them in, they would've dissipated in a few days anyway." He Lingchuan gave an acknowledging grunt. "Oh, right—even if I transform into a shield, my soul-snatching ability remains," the mirror added. "If an opponent stares at me, they might become disoriented and enchanted." "Fair enough." He Lingchuan held it up to test it, and sure enough, the thing expanded from a circular mirror into a round shield three feet across. Its surface remained polished like a mirror, which made it easier to trigger its soul-snatching ability. In truth, it was merely an isometric increase in size. He Lingchuan swung it a couple of times, quite pleased with its weight and feel. It was well-suited for use as a single-handed shield. With his offensive methods gradually expanding, he truly needed an item or two of defensive gear. He had already purchased a shield in Panlong City, and now that gap was filled in reality as well. The only fly in the ointment was an unsightly notch on the shield—the handiwork of Fusheng. "How can this notch be repaired?" "The more resentful souls I devour, the faster I recover. Otherwise, I have to slowly mend it over time," the mirror said. "If those aren't available, profound crystals work, and nightmare energy works too." "Nightmare energy?" He Lingchuan caught the familiar term. Where had he heard that before? Seeing his expression, the mirror knew he was completely clueless. "The spiritual energy of heaven and earth nourishes all living things. Once it enters the body of a living creature, it transforms into nightmare energy—or nightmare power—sustaining birth, aging, illness, and death." This explanation was remarkably straightforward, and He Lingchuan grasped it in an instant. Just like how all things in his previous world needed sunlight to grow: plants grew under the sun, cattle and sheep grazed on plants to build meat, and humans ultimately consumed them. No matter how many links there were in the chain or what names were used, at the end of the day, it was simply "energy." "Wait..." He finally remembered where he had heard this term: back when he and his father caught the enemy spy in Xinhuang! The man claimed to be an acolyte of National Preceptor Shuangye of the Beijia Kingdom, ordered to use the Dragon-Torture Pillar on the battlefield to harvest nightmare energy! The nightmare energy collected by that Dragon-Torture Pillar was extremely dense, yet the light it emitted could only be seen by the acolytes and He Lingchuan. The acolyte had claimed to possess an opened "Heavenly Eye," and had said that the National Preceptor ordered them to gather nightmare energy and bring it back in order to properly release and appease the souls. "How come I heard that nightmare energy is the resentment, unwillingness, and wrath of souls who died in battle?" The mirror burst out laughing with a snort. "Aha?" "Hahahahaha!" Once again, it roared with uncontrollable laughter. "What bloody idiot said that? That's completely off the mark—ridiculously, utterly off!" He Lingchuan didn't interrupt. Only when it was laughing uproariously did he say softly, "National Preceptor Shuangye of the Beijia Kingdom." The mirror's laughter screeched to a halt. "Beijia's National Preceptor?" It fell silent for a moment, then mumbled meekly, "Perhaps... he had other motives." How could the dignified National Preceptor of Beijia possibly make such an elementary mistake?