Chapter Sixteen: No Trace Left of This Dream (6,000 Recommendation Votes)

Suddenly, Shen Lian was startled; a soul fragment had appeared, though he did not know whence it came. Judging by its color, it glimmered with a rosy hue, like the delicate blush of peach blossoms on a maiden’s cheek.

This soul’s thought drifted out from the inner chambers. Shen Qingshan and Madam Chen could not perceive it, but Shen Lian saw it clearly. With a slight movement, he seized that rosy soul-fragment, which was like a cloud of pink powder, and in an instant drew it into his own body. Instantly, a surge of youthful affection flooded through him.

Steadying his spirit and brushing aside the springlike sentiment in the soul, Shen Lian realized his soul force had grown a little stronger, though it was now tinged with a trace of impurity. Where before his mind had been free of joy or sorrow, now subtle emotions began to stir.

As the saying goes, “What is learned from books is shallow; to truly know, one must experience.” Only now did he understand that when the soul leaves the body, it can consume the soul fragments of others to strengthen itself. Yet, having practiced the “Supreme Purity Spirit-Treasure’s Natural Heart-Locking True Formula” for so long, his mind was nearly thoughtless and his soul pure. Thus, he could sense that such a method would taint the purity of his soul force and easily lead him astray.

There was more than one such soul fragment drifting to and fro from the inner chamber, always lingering nearby.

Paying no heed to Shen Qingshan and Madam Chen, he passed through the doorway.

At that moment, the inner room was lit by lamplight. A maid, supporting her face with her hand, dozed at the incense couch, while beneath the fine mosquito netting lay a pale-faced maiden, deep in slumber, soul fragments occasionally drifting from her.

It took no great guess to know that the fragment Shen Lian had just seized had come from his sleeping cousin, Shen Ruoxi.

A person’s soul is gathered within the body, but when one dreams at night, small fragments may unconsciously drift away. It is why, at times, sleeping people glimpse themselves lying in bed.

This is but the soul’s fragment leaving with the dream. Yet this differs greatly from Shen Lian’s soul leaving the body: when his soul departs, his consciousness remains whole—he can see, hear, and judge with perfect clarity. By contrast, these drifting soul fragments are mere pieces, severed from awareness.

A cultivator like Shen Lian could, by following his dreams and at opportune moments, consume these stray thoughts to strengthen himself.

What the soul perceives differs from the mortal eye, though some things are the same.

In Shen Lian’s vision, not only was Shen Ruoxi’s face pale, but at her brow there stretched a thin green thread, extending into the void, its source unknown.

He pondered, “After all, we share this mortal flesh, bound by blood. I must see what fiendish thing is at work here.”

Drifting above Shen Ruoxi, he concentrated his will as sharply as a newly-forged blade, and severed the green thread. At once, his soul, as insubstantial as mist, slipped into Shen Ruoxi’s brow.

Since returning from an outing one day, Shen Ruoxi had been listless and weary, growing so weak she could no longer rise from bed. The once-vibrant girl of spring’s bloom faded like a leaf swept by autumn winds; and this night, she fell into a deep sleep.

In this slumber, it seemed she shed the heavy mortal shell and felt light and refreshed.

Shen Ruoxi opened her eyes to find her fragrant chamber empty, though warm sunlight streamed in from outside.

She paid no mind to where her maid had gone. After lying abed so many days, she felt as if she might rot, so she rose at once.

She did not notice that her garments were already in place the moment she thought of it.

With a single step, she left her chamber, to be greeted by warbling orioles and fluttering butterflies.

Her playful heart roused, she chased after a butterfly, eager to catch it in her hand.

The butterfly was nimble, slipping from her grasp again and again.

Unknowingly, Shen Ruoxi wandered into a garden. She was struck by the sense of having stumbled into a Peach Blossom Spring, for ahead, the painted corridors were dusted with gold, dappled sunlight dazzling the eye.

Beside the long corridor, rocks rose from the pond, lush with moss and brimming with life.

Stepping onto the grass, she found it uncommonly soft beneath her feet.

She wondered how such a delightful place could exist in her own home, though she had never seen it before.

The beauty of the scene lulled her caution; her eyes feasted on wonders, leaving no room for other thoughts.

She could not say how many pavilions she passed, but eventually a melancholy crept over her: to see such endless beauty, yet have no one to share it with, was lonely indeed.

She thought, “Surely I have wandered into another’s garden. But how do I return? And where are the owners of this place?” These thoughts left her anxious.

Just then, before her stood an ancient willow, its myriad green strands cascading like waves.

Behind the willow, a handsome scholar appeared—his brows arched like swords, and his eyes dark as lacquer.

Calm and composed, the scholar broke off a willow branch as if to leave, but before he could, a hand gripped his shoulder. A young man of refined features stood beside him, his presence serene, his gaze electric. Under that stare, the scholar dared not move.

Naturally, this young man was Shen Lian, who could alter his soul’s form at will, even making himself taller.

A strange smile flickered across the scholar’s face before he dissolved into a mass of black smoke, which rushed straight at Shen Lian.

At once, Shen Lian was bombarded by a tumult of chaotic thoughts—joy, rage, sorrow, fear, all mingled and crashing over his soul like tides.

Within his spirit, the deity holding the wish-fulfilling scepter manifested, unmoved by the assault. Like a rock in the sea, it stood firm, indifferent to the ebb and flow.

The onslaught was not endless; at last, failing to overcome him, the black mist dissipated.

In a certain courtyard in Qingzhou Prefecture, there stood a small, well-appointed temple. Within, five deities in red robes, their faces ugly, were enshrined and offered bloody food. From the leftmost idol came a sound, like the neigh of a horse struck by a whip.

Anyone with knowledge would realize this was a secret lascivious shrine, illicitly established among the folk.

Shen Lian knew no soul-attack arts, but by guarding his own spirit faultlessly, he drove away the evil presence.

That fiend had taken the guise of a handsome man, sneaking into Shen Ruoxi’s dream with obvious intentions.

Fortunately, Shen Lian arrived in time, thwarting its plot.

With the fiend banished, Shen Ruoxi approached and, seeing Shen Lian, cried out in alarm, “Shen Lian!”

At that, the dream shattered; all the beauty vanished in a blink.

Shen Lian too broke free from Shen Ruoxi’s dream.

With a startled cry, Shen Ruoxi awoke, sweat pouring from her brow as though after a grave illness, her body utterly drained.

The maid was overjoyed to see her mistress sit up so suddenly, though hearing the name “Shen Lian” spoken, she wondered if she had misheard, or if perhaps the young miss had dreamed of Master Shen Lian. In any case, the young lady was awake and she must inform the master and mistress at once.

Yet before she could, Shen Qingshan and Madam Chen rushed in.

Though Shen Ruoxi’s body was weak, her mind was much clearer. Seeing her parents, she whispered, “Mother, I am so hungry.”

Madam Chen, overwhelmed with joy, wept as she exclaimed, “Qingshan, Ruoxi is hungry again!”

Witnessing this, even the emotionless Shen Lian felt a deep sense of contentment and joy, a rare smile gracing his lips.

Shen Ruoxi caught this fleeting smile and called out, “Shen Lian.”

Surprised that she could see him, Shen Lian did not linger; passing through the wall, he departed without hesitation.