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"The history department building... I visited it a few years ago when I attended an academic conference."
Compared to the chaotic and desolate "outside world," everything here is much more stable. Light and shadow no longer flicker erratically, pedestrians' faces are no longer blurred, and even the tipsy feeling of sunlight on one's face is so real…
If she hadn't been mentally prepared beforehand, she probably wouldn't have known that she was actually dreaming.
"This is Mrs. Belinda's dream."
Fran raised his hand and began to explain to Sigrid.
"She is a White Cup teaching assistant marked by Luyala. Using her dream as a bridge, we can try to infiltrate the dreams of other White Cup Exorcists."
"You mean..."
Sigrid narrowed her eyes, roughly understanding the doctor's scheme.
“That’s right, Mrs. Belinda’s dream is not the final destination. But we need to do some preparations before we get there.”
Luya walked towards the white jasmine stamens climbing all over the courtyard wall, stretched her neck, and plucked off some petals and leaves to chew on.
In reality, Fran would stop her from doing that.
Trachelospermum jasminoides belongs to the Apocynaceae family and is therefore mildly toxic. As an ornamental plant, regular touching poses no safety risk; however, if ingested, it could easily cause stomach upset, leading to vomiting or diarrhea…
But at this moment, Luya was not chewing on a few plant petals and leaves, but rather on the "thoughts" that constituted Mrs. Belinda's dream.
After swallowing the few petals, she pouted, as if she was brewing something.
"Boom."
Soon, a bubble-like object shimmering with a glassy luster gradually expanded with her breath, enveloping all of them.
The floating bubbles were adorned with dazzling light, as if they were a scene from a fairy tale.
Haida raised her palm and looked at Yue Fei's group: §'wu∪¨qi●? 々±like 4, close to the crystal clear bubble-like substance.
She didn't intend to expose it, but rather to perceive the nature of the spirit within it more closely.
Gentle, harmonious, and as one with the entire dream, yet in essence, it blocks any attempt to probe from the outside in.
This is a "one-way mirror" that looks like camouflage.
"You can touch it, okay? It won't break."
Seeing Haida's cautious demeanor, Fran smiled slightly and offered a word of advice from the side.
The bubbles that Luya blows may seem thin and fragile, but they are, after all, products woven from dreams and spirits, and will not burst or dissipate with a simple touch.
"Is it a disguise?"
"correct."
Fran snapped his fingers, deftly responding to Haida's guess.
Luara was born from the dream dimension, possessing innate abilities to forage and disguise. Even after countless years of research into the realm of dreams and thought, researchers at White Cup have yet to come close to the level of a true mythical creature.
Although Belinda is a teaching assistant at the academy, she is not a White Cup Examiner. Therefore, her state in the dream is completely unconscious, and she has no need to worry about being discovered even without pretending...
When Luya brought Haida to find something to eat last time, she didn't disguise herself at all.
"Just wait here for a bit; we'll reach today's main objective soon."
"...That old man is always very efficient."
Fran searched for a moment under the dappled sunlight in the shade of the trees, then found an empty wooden bench and slowly sat down.
She rested her chin on her hand, her long, pale gray eyelashes slightly furrowed, and a hint of languor lingered in her eyes. Her expression was like that of an old fisherman, having set his line and bait, sitting quietly before a deep pool, casting his line…
A moment later, the boundaries of Mrs. Belinda's dream began to become illusory and distorted.
An elderly man dressed in a gray robe and wearing a pointed hat came into view.
Although his hair and beard were gray, he was still vigorous and energetic, and his eyes showed no signs of aging.
Grantham stroked the briar pipe in his hand, took a shallow puff, and exhaled the swirling smoke.
"Hmm...you still run so fast."
He has been extremely attentive to Belinda ever since he discovered that her dreams might contain unknown mythical creatures.
Coincidentally, Belinda had previously used the Spirit-Containing Potion [Connecting Dreams], so he also linked his own dream with hers in order to detect subtle changes.
But the little guy seemed to have an extraordinary sense of Grantham's arrival... and always managed to escape before he entered the dream.
While it's currently impossible to determine whether this dream creature is good or evil, based on the impressions from several chases, she doesn't seem to possess strong aggression or malice.
"What could it be?"
Grantham was somewhat unsure.
During their closest chase, he saw a fluffy white tail in the ripples at the edge of the dream... but based on this feature alone, it was really difficult to determine the specific species.
She was very wary and timid, and wouldn't return for a long time after escaping...
It seems tonight's efforts will be in vain again. Perhaps I should try a different strategy?
Grantham stubbed out his pipe and, somewhat disheartened, prepared to leave Belinda's dream.
He didn't realize that... the mythical creature he had been searching for was now standing quietly behind him, shrouded in a bubble as thin as a cicada's wing.
Sigrid's golden eyes widened slightly, feeling somewhat incredulous.
In her mind, if one were to ask who in Norlington had the deepest understanding of dreams... that person would undoubtedly be Grantham of the White Cup.
Even Dr. Fran might not be able to surpass him in this respect.
But the mysterious and dignified old man seemed oblivious to Luya, who was right in front of him. There was only a thin, delicate membrane between them, as if they were separated by an insurmountable chasm.
Seeing the surprised and slightly puzzled look on Sigrid's face, Fran couldn't help but raise his hand to cover his mouth, suppressing his laughter. (8)
In fact, she had felt a similar sense of surprise when she first met Luyala.
This seemingly harmless little deer was able to completely disregard the barrier between thought and mind, directly pulling its spirit into a deep dream... This demonstrates that, within a certain range, Luara's control over dreams is almost absolute. 7
This is something that cannot be achieved through the so-called "talent" of mythical creatures.
This child must have some special qualities that are still unknown to us...
Like a feline basking in the sun, Fran stretched his back and then stood up from the bench.
“Sigrid, relax. Now we’re going to follow Grantham into his dream.”
"Mr. Grantham's dream...?"
Sigrid breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this, but inexplicably felt a little nervous.
As a master craftswoman renowned for her exceptional talent within the Sunforge Order, she also knew many of the secrets among the order's higher-ups. Yue
For example, the decision-makers at Casting Sun mostly referred to the Funeral Minister as a "paranoiac" or a "master-killing red wolf." Meanwhile, the principal of White Cup was called a "mentally ill person"...
Although it was hard to imagine why they would use that word to describe a distinguished, humble, and talkative old man… it still made her feel somewhat uneasy.
Heda, on the other hand, had many experiences working house calls with Fran, which meant that unexpected situations were commonplace for the nun.
Her chestnut-grey eyes were deep and focused, conveying a sense of composure.
As their emotions subsided, the group, enveloped in a dazzling illusion, followed Grantham into his dream.
……
In a narrow sense, dreams refer to the imaginary thoughts that flash through the mind during a light sleep state.
Chaotic, chaotic, illogical, and any tiny, trivial matter from morning to evening can change its contents.
The dream realm they entered was the "deep consciousness".
It contains primal instincts, acquired thoughts, and memories accumulated over time, thus its form tends to be more stable.
That's why Belinda's dream remained unchanged: a long, sun-drenched, tree-lined path. It was her favorite scene, and the time she found most relaxing and pleasant.
The environment in Grantham's subconscious... is far more terrifying.
Vast, gloomy, and desolate.
Skyscrapers and giant towers collapsed and crumbled, leaving only ashes and ruins everywhere.
This is a grand yet desolate ruin.
Like a corpse long buried in the dust of history, so much so that even carrion crows are unwilling to hover or linger.
The night sky was clear, the stars were hidden, and only a cobalt blue crescent moon hung alone. If this were a grave, she would be the only mourner offering a farewell kiss.
Grantham has disappeared.
Without deliberate intent, the fully capable "self" will not project itself into dreams within the deeper consciousness. Even if someone with the same appearance appears, it is merely an echo of the past.
Simply put, Grantham will not appear here unless he is discovered.
Fran looked around the ruins with a sense of novelty, his eyes brimming with barely suppressed excitement.
"Indeed, it was feasible to infiltrate Grantham's dream through Luyala. The child's disguise was even able to deceive his subconscious."
"But how long it can last is still unknown..."
As she spoke, her gaze fell upon a crumbling, broken giant tower, carefully examining its specific structure.
"A concrete structure, inlaid with steel bars. And inscribed with prayers and ritual arrays used to strengthen the building..."
"A Lost Era".
From this perspective, even if Grantham is not one of the White Cup First Men who have survived to this day, he still has a very deep connection with the Lost Age.
This partly explains why he was able to briefly suppress or even severely damage the incarnation of the Crown of the Dead during the Great Plague, foreshadowing Fran's later theft of the crown.
[Establishing a Dream-Awakening System], [Hyperthymesia], [Mystic Staircase]—each is a first-class ritual imbued with forbidden divinity. The fact that Grantham could integrate these three rituals within himself without being overwhelmed is itself a miracle…
But if he possessed the mysterious knowledge of the lost era, then that success was probably no accident.
In the arrogant yet meticulous plans of the early inhabitants of Baibei, even miracles could be mass-produced!
"A lost era?"
Sigrid gently bit her lip, trying to ease the inexplicable tension.
Most historians of the White Cup believe that the Lost Age is an independent era, but some esoteric scholars believe that it is just a fragmented and hidden history, such as Zoparos of the Funeral Court of the Hunters.
Although they disagreed on some points, they both agreed that the White Cup Order was at an unprecedented height in this era, with its weapon forging and secret arts reaching unparalleled heights... until they touched a taboo, bringing about their inevitable demise.
Fran followed Luara through the ruins, while keeping in touch with Sigrid.
"Judging from the characteristics of this ruin, it must undoubtedly be from a lost era."
"Although Grantham has lost the ability to forget due to hyperthymesia, describing the entire city based solely on one person's thoughts will still have some shortcomings..."
Just as she was about to say something, a light rain began to fall from the previously clear sky.
It falls in a misty, fine mist, like silk gauze.
既无8云絮升腾5，也无7南风呼啸…6…没有任何6征兆3。4%∧4∞∷2〉〓
"They're all impatient people; they can't even stay a little longer."
Fran licked his lips and felt a metallic taste gradually spreading across his tongue.
The taste of blood was strong and fresh.
The rain poured down, and a toppled, blood-red triangle was faintly visible. The originally light drizzle had somehow turned sticky and crimson.
That was the Crimson Cup, one of the gods who brought an end to the lost age, the Mother of Mountains and Devourers. It was also the nightmare shadow lingering deep within Grantham's consciousness, a terrifying echo from a thousand years ago…
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Soup.ing
Chapter Twenty-One: Xingyuan Society
Blood-red clouds rolled like raging waves, carrying a roaring curtain of rain, surging and churning.
Above the layered celestial dome, amidst the extinguished stars, the figures of several illusory colossal figures appeared in the distance. Their auras and spirits intertwined, their silent confrontation a form of invisible battle.
The sounds of the heavens pounded, thunder roared and white light shone, tearing the night sky apart with an almost violent intensity.
Even so, it could not shake the boundless darkness that covered everything... The fierce howling seemed to be just the last lament before the end of the world.
Ruins, rubble, broken walls, and dust everywhere... the broken things begin to reassemble in the storm.
The massive metal gears, stripped of their rust, were reassembled within the collapsed clock tower.