Chapter Eleven: Chasing the Culprit Across a Thousand Miles in the Dead of Night

Ling Yan and Bai Mu, who had been concealed in the shadows beforehand, quickly and cautiously trailed after it, keeping a distance of nearly a hundred meters at all times—far enough not to lose track, yet not so close that the wounded Dream Devourer might sense them.

Man and beast pressed onward through the dense and wild mountains for nearly an hour. As the Dream Devourer advanced, the terrain grew ever steeper and more treacherous. Where ancient trees had once blanketed the slopes, now only scattered clusters of strange rocks remained, interspersed with yawning caves of various sizes. From one such cave, a slender stream trickled forth, its gentle music playing through the deep night in the wilds.

“Where do you suppose this Dream Devourer is leading us?” Bai Mu asked, puzzled. “The terrain grows ever stranger, and those caves seem to exude a sinister air. Might there be some trap awaiting us?”

“Impossible,” Ling Yan replied quietly, shaking her head as she analyzed the situation. “That beast has no idea we’re following; it cannot be laying a trap. Let’s continue observing from afar before we make any move.”

As they whispered in hushed tones, the Dream Devourer came to a halt before a cave from which firelight spilled. It lay at the entrance, exhausted, and let out a low, mournful whimper.

Outside, the bright moon poured its silvery light over its grey-black mane. Its elephantine trunk and rhinoceros-like tusks made for a bizarre visage, while its tiger’s tail swayed in the moonlight—an altogether incongruous creature. Yet this ugly beast could silently and invisibly drain the souls of men in their dreams.

The two quickly found a large rock to hide behind, peering cautiously at their surroundings. They found themselves in a modest mountain valley, barren save for the scattered rocks and countless dark caves; not a single blade of grass or flower grew there.

The cliffs above were sheer and smooth, like chasms hewn by the heavens, with both ends of the valley close together and crowned by chaotic stones. Though the moon was bright, only a few pale beams could find their way into the valley, painting it with ghostly light.

From a purely strategic perspective, this was an ideal place: deep within the untraveled wilds, the valley lay in the heart of the dense forests, utterly inaccessible to the mortal tribes of the Barbarian Realm. Even those with great mystical power—or second-generation immortals like Ling Yan and Bai Mu—would have little reason to visit such a place without cause. If the Dream Devourer’s master truly hid here, this would be a perfect spot for practicing forbidden arts.

Silent, secluded, and heavy with yin energy—this was a place tailor-made for those who trafficked in the demonic. It seemed tonight, Bai Mu and Ling Yan were destined for a bitter struggle.

“Someone’s coming!” Ling Yan suddenly whispered in Bai Mu’s ear, her breath like orchid-scented mist caressing his cheek, making the naive youth’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Bai Mu nodded shyly and looked toward the cave from which firelight glowed. Fortunately, though the valley was deep, a few stray moonbeams pierced through, and with the firelight from within, everything outside the cave was clearly visible.

An elderly man in a gray robe emerged unhurriedly from the cave. He was tall and slender, his hair neatly draped down his back, and on his robe was embroidered a crane poised for flight—adding a touch of immortal elegance to his appearance. His face was furrowed with fine wrinkles, like the ravines of the mountains, betraying a life of hardship. Yet under the moonlight, his eyes shone with a cold, brilliant light—deep and piercing, the gaze of one with profound cultivation.

Though his features were unremarkable, his bearing was extraordinary. Had Bai Mu not overheard the Dream Devourer’s earlier conversation with the mysterious figure, he might have mistaken the old man for a refined and virtuous elder.

The old man glanced disdainfully at the Dream Devourer, which lay panting on the ground, and said in a deep voice, “Where are the souls I asked you to bring? Why have you returned empty-handed?”

The Dream Devourer replied with a sharp, mournful cry, then weakly raised its head and mouthed silent words toward the old man. Ling Yan and Bai Mu had already witnessed this peculiar means of communication, so they were not surprised—though the beast’s grotesque appearance still made them want to laugh.

As the Dream Devourer’s story unfolded, the old man’s expression grew ever darker, until it seemed as though rain might fall from his face.

At length, the Dream Devourer finished its account and collapsed to the ground, clearly gravely wounded.

The old man’s countenance seemed frozen in place. He stood silent and unmoving, his eyes flashing cold and bright as twin stars, all the gentle bearing he had shown earlier vanished.

“This is a Spirit Transformation Pill. Take three to heal your wounds; you’ll be well after a rest,” he said, drawing a white jade vial from his robe. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the vial through the air; it seemed almost to fly of its own accord, landing precisely before the Dream Devourer’s trunk.

“Seize the medicine—don’t let the Dream Devourer take it! Otherwise, we’ll soon have another powerful foe to contend with!” Bai Mu urged anxiously.

Ling Yan’s lips curved in a faint smile. Without a sound, her slender, jade-like hand reached out, and the white jade vial, which had nearly reached the Dream Devourer, was suddenly whisked away, tracing a graceful arc in the moonlight before landing in her flawless grasp.

Before the old man or the Dream Devourer could react to this sudden turn, Bai Mu had already drawn the Azure Dragon Sword. With a flickering movement, he leapt forward, the sword bursting with two illusory shadows that swept toward both the gray-robed elder and the beast.

Ling Yan, too, moved at just the right moment, flashing to the cave entrance, the Jade Cold Flute gripped tightly in her hand, her energy gathered and ready for battle—a hundred rounds if need be.

The old man, caught off guard and never suspecting anyone would follow him into the valley, was completely unprepared and so lost the vial in an instant. By the time he realized what had happened, the sword energy of the Azure Dragon Sword was already surging toward him from all sides, threatening to engulf him completely.

Glancing at the wounded Dream Devourer, who was now barely clinging to life, he saw it too was beset by sword energy. But in such peril himself, the old man could spare no thought for the beast’s safety.