A Dream of Yellow Millet.
Outside the secret realm, endless blooming flowers created a riot of color. Among the dancing flower shadows, thousands upon thousands of butterflies danced gracefully—romantic yet revealing something indescribably eerie in their overly dense beauty.
In these two days, many cultivators had already entered and exited the secret realm. Those who went deep into its heart all said they seemed to have had a beautiful dream they didn’t want to wake from, enticing everyone to head toward the secret realm’s center.
Sheng Jiao stood alone at the secret realm entrance.
Several butterflies silently landed on his shoulders, fluttering their wings. His cold gaze swept over them, and the overly beautiful butterflies seemed frozen by frost, crumbling into scattered snowflakes.
Not far away, Lezheng Jiu was cursing.
Not fond of dealing with people, he really didn’t want to enter the crowded phantom realm, but two nights ago in his drunken excitement, he’d directly agreed to Heng Yudu and was now forced to come babysit.
The half-grown child following him was also troublesome, chattering nonstop along the way. The small boy, seeing Lezheng Jiu in black robes covering him from head to toe, found him mysteriously aloof and stuck even closer.
“Lord Lezheng! What’s your xiangwen?”
“I’m so scared now—you’ll protect me, right?”
“Would you like some spirit pills? You seem to be shaking with fear too.”
Lezheng Jiu: “…”
Lezheng Jiu looked at him expressionlessly from under his hood with sinister eyes, thinking: I’m trembling from anger at your chatter.
Feng Yu and Liu Changxing were most excited, already happily taking children into the phantom realm, planning to show off in front of the kids.
The child Rang Chen brought was quiet, obediently following beside him. Without questions, he said nothing—requiring no concern.
Sheng Jiao turned his head to glance at the little girl bouncing over.
Qin Banban wore new clothes with a golden bell in her hair, charming and lively, as if the hardships of her first twelve years had long been smoothed away, showing no trace.
She blinked her eyes, unafraid of Sheng Jiao’s cold face, asking crisply: “Uncle, are you and Brother Lan also classmates?”
Uncle Sheng: “…”
Sheng Jiao frowned, not quite understanding why they were clearly the same age, yet one intimately called him “gege” while the other called him “uncle.”
Qin Banban looked at him expectantly.
Sheng Jiao had never liked dealing with unfamiliar people. Without a word, he coldly walked directly toward the secret realm entrance, the wind he stirred causing the butterflies dancing around him to turn into falling snowflakes.
Qin Banban had sold pastries since childhood and seen countless customers with strange temperaments, so she didn’t feel discouraged.
She smiled and ran forward. A swarm of butterflies danced around her in flight. The little girl found them beautiful and lifted her layered skirt to spin in circles, the bell in her hair jingling as she giggled continuously.
Sheng Jiao coldly turned his head, his lips unmoving as he said indifferently: “Keep up.”
Qin Banban said “oh” and obediently followed.
Though her xiangwen was “Third Watch Snow,” Qin Banban was as enthusiastic as a blazing little sun. Even with Sheng Jiao ignoring her, she could entertain herself, humming Northern Territory tunes as she strolled into the secret realm.
The outer ring of “Dream of Yellow Millet” was just a circle of phantom territory, no different from ordinary secret realms except for the many dense forest spirit beasts.
Even when encountering evil beasts, they lacked intelligence and would cry out in fear upon seeing people, running away with their tails between their legs. Even children who had just established their foundation could repel them.
Qin Banban looked around and gradually grew bored, asking curiously: “Uncle, Director Heng said we should stay in the secret realm for half a day. Are we just going to wander around here?”
Sheng Jiao looked down at her.
Qin Banban pointed to the towering giant tree at the very center of the “Dream of Yellow Millet” secret realm.
“Can’t we go there?”
The tree had already withered, but its dense branches reached toward the sky, blocking out the sun. Its shadow was so enormous it seemed capable of covering the entire phantom realm, inspiring fear just by looking at it.
Sheng Jiao looked indifferently at the audacious young girl: “You’re from Lixiang Zhai?”
Qin Banban asked curiously: “How do you know?”
Sheng Jiao remained silent.
Only people from Lixiang Zhai would be so rebellious and unruly at such a young age.
When he’d seen Qin Banban interacting with Xi Jianlan in Wuyin City, he’d thought she was just a pitiable silly girl. He hadn’t expected her nature to be so bold, as if she didn’t know what fear was.
Come to think of it, someone who dared strike at Heng Yudu while thinking herself merely mortal naturally wasn’t some docile, gentle person.
Without that edge, she probably wouldn’t have survived to this age in a remote place like Wuyin City.
“No.”
Sheng Jiao didn’t elaborate, using few words to crush the little girl’s fantasy.
Qin Banban could only nod and give up.
After Sheng Jiao walked with Qin Banban for a while, he frowned tightly, inexplicably finding it noisy.
Qin Banban actually spoke very little, only cheerfully sharing her joy with Sheng Jiao when encountering novel things, chattering like a lark’s song—quite pleasant. Though Xi Jianlan had been talkative enough since childhood to annoy people to death, Sheng Jiao still found it noisy.
Completely unreasonable.
Sheng Jiao frowned at the golden bell in the girl’s hair, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable.
Ding-dong.
Ding-ding-ring.
Ding.
On the other side of the secret realm, Xi Jianlan lazily flicked a golden bell on his wrist, putting his hand to his ear to listen for a while. Confirming he could only hear extremely faint sounds, he smiled with satisfaction.
Ying Zhuo asked in confusion: “What is shixiong listening to?”
“Echo Bell.” Xi Jianlan said with a grin. “The closer the other bell gets to me, the louder this bell rings.”
It could prevent him from unluckily running into Sheng Jiao in the secret realm and getting beaten up.
The bell’s sound was currently faint, indicating Sheng Jiao and Qin Banban were far away, allowing him to court death in peace.
Xi Jianlan and Ying Zhuo headed together toward the towering dead tree at the phantom realm’s center.
The Ying family had prospered due to Ying Zhuo’s Heaven-grade xiangwen, naturally missing the despicable and filthy things Central State’s great families had done to “Kan Tianyan” over ten years ago.
“I remember, before you awakened your xiangwen, your family was a minor Central State household?” Xi Jianlan chatted casually with Ying Zhuo.
Ying Zhuo nodded: “Right. When I awakened my Heaven-grade xiangwen, my father was both terrified and relieved, saying it was fortunate I was Heaven-grade rather than Spirit-grade, or our Ying family would have faced disaster.”
Minor households without great family protection who awakened Spirit-grade xiangwen often ended up having their Spirit-grade xiangwen forcibly taken, or in worse cases, their entire clan slaughtered.
Hundreds of years ago, Spirit-grade xiangwen had suffered such fates.
Xi Jianlan laughed: “Yes, fortunate you were Heaven-grade.”
Having spent years studying Xi Jianlan’s every word and action, Ying Zhuo keenly sensed he seemed to have hidden meaning, saying suspiciously: “Shixiong?”
“Qiao’er.” Xi Jianlan patted his shoulder. “You should go back first.”
Ying Zhuo frowned: “This secret realm’s dangers are unknown. With shixiong’s cultivation not fully recovered, it’s too dangerous without me.”
Xi Jianlan smiled: “You received instruction from Dean Wen. This time I’m opposing him—aren’t you afraid of an awkward position?”
Moreover, Wen Gubai had a strange temperament and was duplicitous. It would be dangerous for Ying Zhuo to follow.
Ying Zhuo frowned: “Shixiong… wants to kill Dean Wen?”
Xi Jianlan nodded absentmindedly as if discussing the most ordinary matter: “Mm.”
Ying Zhuo: “…”
Ying Zhuo only thought for an instant before decisively saying: “I’ll go with shixiong.”
Lixiang Zhai people had always been contemptuous of ethics and weak in emotions. Moreover, to Ying Zhuo, Wen Gubai had only taught him for a few years—hardly comparable to his relationship with his shixiong.
Xi Jianlan gave him a meaningful look.
He really didn’t understand what great charm he possessed to make Ying Zhuo disregard danger to this extent.
Seeing Xi Jianlan hadn’t said anything more about sending him away, Ying Zhuo’s eyes curved as he caught up, suddenly seeming to remember something.
“Shixiong, when I bought the Xi family xiangwen on the black market, there was a xiangwen belonging to your mother among them.”
Lady Zong’s xiangwen?
With dreamlike butterflies dancing around him, Xi Jianlan didn’t look up, saying casually: “Mm?”
But just a few days ago, Ying Zhuo learned that in Xi Minghuai’s memory…
Lady Zong’s xiangwen had been completely crushed by “Xi Jue”—it couldn’t possibly have been extracted intact.
Ying Zhuo hesitated for a long time before finally smiling and not continuing the topic.
“It’s nothing—it seems the deeper we go into the phantom realm, the more butterflies there are.”
Xi Jianlan raised his hand, allowing a butterfly to silently land on his finger. Watching the butterfly’s wings flutter lightly twice, he said flatly: “Seeming like a dream yet not a dream—perhaps you and I have long been in a dream without knowing it?”
Ying Zhuo was stunned.
Just as the words fell, Xi Jianlan’s pupils suddenly contracted. Weak spiritual power at his fingertips instantly condensed into golden needles, silently stabbing toward the swarm of butterflies ahead that nearly obscured his vision.
“Jue’er.” The butterflies scattered in flight as someone said with a smile: “To strike against the teacher who personally raised you upon reunion after long separation—that’s rather disrespectful to your elders.”
Butterflies filled Xi Jianlan’s hair, as if he were placed in an exquisitely beautiful painting.
The butterflies instantly split in two and dispersed, revealing the person behind.
Wen Gubai wore white robes, his snow-colored hair ribbon fluttering from the butterflies’ touch. When he smiled, he looked like an ethereal immortal transcending the world.
Ying Zhuo was stunned.
He hadn’t detected any sign of Wen Gubai’s arrival. Wasn’t Xi Jianlan’s spiritual power supposed to be unrecovered?
Xi Jianlan pulled Ying Zhuo’s forearm and yanked him behind himself, stepping forward onto the butterflies on the ground that instantly transformed into shattered osmanthus flowers, their fragrance richly assaulting the nose.
“I dare not accept that.” Xi Jianlan still smiled, but his eyes held nothing but ruthless, cold killing intent. “When Dean Wen slaughtered the entire Xi family back then, did you think of yourself as a teacher?”
Wen Gubai always spoke and acted in a way that made people feel refreshed, and now was no exception. His smile was warm: “I thought you’d be grateful to me, after all…”
As he spoke, he seemed to belatedly notice Ying Zhuo and smiled gently.
Before Ying Zhuo could react, Xi Jianlan suddenly pushed him backward, Tianyan spiritual power forming a barrier surrounding Ying Zhuo.
“Ding”—a crisp sound.
A sharp strand of Wen Gubai’s spiritual power pierced through the barrier like a sharp arrow, forcefully lodging within it. A cold gleam pointed at Ying Zhuo’s brow, just half an inch from entering his body and completely crushing his sea of consciousness.
Only after Ying Zhuo’s Heaven-grade “Weaving Under Eaves” xiangwen blocked that strand of spiritual power that nearly took his life did it belatedly transform into snow-white spider silk, fiercely wrapping around him.
Ying Zhuo, still shaken, looked over in shock.
Xi Jianlan stood before him, unhurriedly lowering his hand as he smiled: “Dean Wen, the game hasn’t started yet—don’t think about flipping the board so soon.”
Wen Gubai’s gaze completely chilled.
“Your xiangwen…”
The butterflies surrounding them seemed blown by wind, forming rolling, layered waves.
The sound of butterflies fluttering their wings was too faint, but thousands upon thousands fluttering together could nearly raise a piercing wind.
Suddenly, all the butterflies stopped mid-air, wings stiff as if time had frozen.
The dead tree obscured by clouds and mist in the distance finally revealed its true face in a gust of wild wind—it was actually a “tree” dozens of zhang tall formed by countless butterflies.
Yu Tuishan sat lazily on a branch formed of butterflies, swinging his legs and eating pastries with relish.
“Dream of Yellow Millet” had been forged by his “Kan Tianyan.” Though not even one percent of the original “Dream of Yellow Millet” xiangwen itself, it could be temporarily used by him.
Yu Tuishan finished eating his pastries, patted the crumbs from his paws, removed his skull mask slightly, and grinned as he looked down.
As “Kan Tianyan’s” spiritual power poured from his fingertips, the dead tree that had stood for several days instantly collapsed. Countless butterflies swept across the secret realm like a hurricane.
Wherever they passed, cultivators were drawn into dreams.
Amid the fluttering butterflies, Xi Jianlan’s black hair and crimson robes danced in chaotic interweaving, a bizarre smile appearing on his enchanting face.
“Dean Wen.”
Xi Jianlan’s toes stepped on butterflies as he moved gracefully as a startled swan. In the instant before the butterflies drew the two into dreams, he gently parted his lips, his voice seeming hidden in the butterflies’ dancing sounds.
“…Only when you’re dead can I be completely innocent.”
**
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152
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