122 Welcome Back, Dave

122 Welcome Back, Dave

I had to admit. Shenyuan was one sneaky bastard.

Always had a backup plan. Always one step ahead. Always wriggling out of death like some smug, undead cockroach.

I scanned him with my Divine Sense, piercing through the layers of eldritch corruption that tangled around his form like barbed wire made of thought. And just as I feared, there it was. A faint, frayed tether that connected him to Dave.

“Of course,” I muttered, brow furrowing. “Unfortunately for you, pal, something else called dibs on Dave…”

Shenyuan had left a fragment of himself in Dave during their fight. A piece of soul or memory, hiding deep in the seams like mold between tiles. It made sense. Dave was forged from will and divine principle, but he wasn’t invincible. And when I’d made Dave study qi, something far outside his original design, it probably tore a gap wide enough for Shenyuan to slither through.

In my youth, I’d been taught to expect the unexpected. And in some twisted, paranoid part of me, I had expected something like this to happen. Still didn’t make it any less annoying.

As I stood there, watching the horror unfold, Shenyuan suddenly jerked violently. The black stitches on his mouth writhed like worms before snapping, and he screamed.

“HELP!”

His voice was raw, panicked, and human. The first time I’d heard that from him. And possibly the last.

Because he didn’t last long.

The eldritch woman, the thing with tar-slick skin and tentacle-like hair, let out a delighted hum as she swallowed him whole. Not with her mouth, but with the folds of her body. Like a nightmare consuming a bad memory. He vanished, twitching hands and all, without even a trace.

Then she turned to me.

And changed.

Her inky flesh smoothed into pale skin. Her wild, writhing hair coalesced into a sleek, dark curtain that fell down her back. Her shifting robe became silver, embroidered with a white lotus pattern that gleamed like moonlight. Her smile, Gods, that smile. It was hers.

Xin Yune.

She even tilted her head the same way.

“Join me,” she said. Voice soft. Almost tender. “Let’s become one.”

It hit me harder than I wanted to admit. My chest tightened. My breath caught halfway up my throat.

But I wasn’t stupid.

“No thanks,” I said.

Unlike the time I had to claw my way through Gu Jie’s soul during the Heavenly Demon incident, I wasn’t operating under limited conditions anymore. This wasn’t the Heavenly Demon's dream. It was mine. And I had authority here.

I focused.

The air rippled with intent as I mentally conjured a longsword, six feet of shining steel, runes carved down its length in radiant lines of power. No weight. No drag. Just a purpose.

Then I called upon my Ultimate Skill: Heavenly Punishment, its evolved version at least.

The blade lit up, no, it ignited, infused with the will of judgment itself. Blue and golden fire crackled along the edge, screaming with righteous fury. The ground beneath my feet cracked, unable to withstand the pressure.

“Sorry,” I said. “But I already have a lot on my plate. So I’ll finish it quickly.”

I stepped forward with Zealot’s Stride, the dreamscape blurring into streaks of red and black as I closed the distance in a heartbeat.

The thing that wore Xin Yune’s face smiled until my blade met her.

I slashed.

The moment my sword carved through her torso, she didn’t bleed. She screamed, not with sound, but with memory. The kind of shriek that tore at the edges of sanity and clawed at childhood fears. Her form incinerated under the divine fire, burning from the inside out. Tentacles flailed, her face peeled away, and that smile twisted into something… real.

Fear.

I watched as she collapsed inward, reduced to a smear of shadow, then nothing at all.

Gone.

I stood there, breathing hard, the hilt of my dream-forged sword still warm in my hand.

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Next time Dave acts weird, I’m checking him for parasites.”

The lingering echoes of the eldritch entity faded like smoke, but I knew better than to assume that was the end of it. Something had slipped away, escaped. The woman with Xin Yune’s face hadn’t died. Not really. She was just hiding again.

So I stretched out my Divine Sense, threading it through the dream, feeling for the slightest pulse of wrongness in the seams of reality. She couldn’t hide from that.

And there she was.

A spark. A sliver. An afterimage riding on dream logic. She darted away, slinking into the scenery like a shadow escaping the sun.

I didn’t wait.

With a single breath, I activated Zealot’s Stride and took off after her, moving faster than thought. It was my dream, so of course, I could move faster than thought. The world bent and blurred around me, landscapes shifting in a fever dream of places I’d walked in this foreign world.

First, the Imperial Capital, golden roofs glinting under moonlight, now twisted with ghostly outlines of people I’d never saved.

Then, Yellow Dragon City flickered between its past prosperity and the blood-stained aftermath of Brukhelm's attack. I passed the approximate of an academy, still smelling the ink and ash of my earlier days.

Ironmoor City came next, its forges glowing red with both metal and memory. Lu Gao’s laughter echoed faintly as I rushed by, a brief reprieve in a torrent of scenes.

But then… nothing.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The trail vanished like it had never existed.

I looked around, frowning. She was gone. The scent, the imprint, and the echo were scrubbed clean. Something had blocked me, or maybe someone.

“Da Wei?”

I turned.

It was Gu Jie. She walked up, composed as always, eyes curious but calm. Beside her was Ren Jingyi, approaching with a hesitant smile.

“You alright?” Gu Jie asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered, eyes narrowing. “Just lost something important.”

Ren Jingyi tilted her head, concern knitted into her expression. “What did you lose?”

“A shadow,” I said absently.

And then I looked at her, really looked at her.

My Divine Sense flared. Not a single strand of ‘ominous’ out of place. Her form was perfect. Too perfect.

“Great, you are gaining intelligence… Ah, fuck me...”

It wasn’t right.

I stared at her, then asked, “Jingyi… Who’s your favorite person?”

Her smile widened just a little too much. “You, of course.”

A beat passed. A breath. Then…

Lie.

It echoed through my soul like a gong. My heart dropped, not because she didn’t mean it, but because something was pretending to. My sword was already in my hand before I could stop myself.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “But you’re not her. She’d at least answer, it’s Big Sister Gu Jie, of course!”

The blade ignited, Heavenly Punishment surged through it, turning it white-hot with righteous fury. I slashed in one fluid motion, divine light tearing across the dream.

“Stop perverting my memories, you darn little thing!”

I spent the rest of the night chasing that damn entity across the infinite stretches of my subconscious, swinging my glowing slab of divine steel like a madman chasing fireflies.

Every time I thought I had her, as I slashed, burned, and purged, she slipped through. Like ink between my fingers. Like memory after waking. No matter how fast I moved or how hard I struck, she was always just one breath too far. And every now and then, she’d laugh. Not loudly, but just enough to crawl under my skin.

I hated how familiar she sounded.

Even in a dream, the rules of power applied. Skill mattered. Intent mattered. And I was starting to realize I needed more than just my current set of tools. I had Willpower, yes. Martial Tempering? Mind Enlightenment? Will Reinforcement? Sure. Even my Ultimate Skills. But my dreamwalking was crude, scratched together from fragments of Cloud Mist scrolls, various knowledge, and wild guesses.

I needed something sharper. A proper technique. If the Emperor wasn’t too deep in mourning, I’d probably ask for access to his vaults right now. Not that I liked the idea of owing him.

Eventually, I gave up the chase. Not because I wanted to, but because the world around me began to crack like shattered glass.

Time to wake up.

My eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, I didn’t feel like myself. My thoughts felt like echoes. Not broken, just… distant.

I wasn’t okay.

But I wasn’t broken either. Relevant sanity maintained, as I liked to say. It was a small win.

The rooftop was still cold beneath me. I sat up slowly, stretching my arms out until my joints popped. The early morning sun peeked over the palace walls, casting long golden shadows across the tiled surface.

Honestly, the rooftop probably wasn’t the most logical place to fall asleep. Especially not in a place like this. But logic didn’t apply anymore. I had used Willpower, brute control of my own body, and a splash of sheer cultivation stat-mashing to make myself dream on purpose. Not because I needed sleep, I hadn’t required that in a while, but because it was pleasant.

To rest. To remember. To be human.

Even if only for a few hours.

My gaze drifted up to the fading stars above, remnants of a night that refused to be forgotten.

“…Sentimental,” I muttered to myself. "I am getting sentimental."

I chuckled lightly, rubbing my eyes. “God, I’m getting soft.”

It was her fault. Xin Yune. That mad, brilliant, too-honest woman.

She made me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years. Not just grief or guilt, but appreciation. For all the messy, painful, beautiful things tied up in mortality. She reminded me that being human wasn’t just about pain… it was about meaning.

I yawned, the morning warmth coaxing me back to reality.

Then I focused, casting Voice Chat with a thought. I linked to my Holy Spirit, my faithful, if occasionally unhinged, companion.

“Dave,” I said, “you there?”

A pause. Then his voice came through, echoing through our bond.

“Here, my Lord. Ready to serve.”

A beat.

“Though… if permitted, I request additional rest. The last engagement taxed me deeply.”

I snorted. “Rest granted, Knight of my Sleep-Deprived Heart.”

“...That title is not officially recognized,” remarked Dave with a snap.

“Neither is ‘sane’, but we’re rolling with it.”

He didn’t respond, but I felt his energy dim slightly, slipping back into recovery. Good. He needed it. I closed my eyes, expanding my Divine Sense and enjoying the moment.

I remained still on the rooftop, the sun climbing higher, the capital waking up below me.

“The Emperor wishes to see you,” said a deep voice.

I opened one eye and stared up at the hulking figure now standing at the edge of the rooftop.

He hadn’t climbed. He had leapt and landed, his feet cracking the tiles, which meant either immense lack of control or ungodly strength. Maybe both.

The man was a giant, tall and broad-shouldered, not the kind of muscle-bound oaf you see in martial tournaments, but the kind carved out of battlefield legend. His armor was thick, obsidian-colored with golden trims, though the upper arms were left bare, showcasing hard, corded muscle. His long, dark hair was tied behind him like a battle banner, and his sharp jawline could probably cut a gemstone.

“I am Zhu Shin,” he announced, voice thunderous but refined. “General of the Western Watch. Servant of the Imperial Throne.”

I gave him a once-over.

“Nice entrance,” I said as I stood up, dusting my robe. “Didn’t stab me in my sleep. That’s one in your favor.”

He didn’t react to the sarcasm. Maybe he wasn’t used to it. Maybe he just didn’t care.

Still, the fact that I’d been left unbothered throughout the night, even in the middle of the Imperial Palace, told me something. At the very least, the Emperor didn’t want me dead. Yet. Maybe with enough pranks, he'd start hating my guts... I mean, he was welcome to try...

Not that I’d mind if he tried. Between my skillset and Dave’s divine belligerence, we’d probably leave a crater or two. But I wasn’t suicidal, just skeptical... especially of emperors.

“Alright,” I said. “Lead the way, General.”

I took a step forward, intent on walking past him.

And then, clack, a hand clamped down on my shoulder like a vice.

I turned, blinking up at him. “...You know, it’s kinda rude to just grab someone like that. No consent. No warning. Zero points for etiquette.”

“You will show proper respect to His Majesty,” Zhu Shin said, his voice like grinding granite. “This is not Riverfall. This is not your sect or whatever loose institution you came from. This is the Imperial Capital.”

I narrowed my eyes. My Divine Sense enveloped him, subtle and unseen. Immediately, I got a read on him.

Ninth Realm. Same level as Xin Yune.

And now that I was using both Divine Sense and Qi Sense in tandem, I could see more clearly: his cultivation was stable, deep-rooted like an iron oak. There was a unique pressure on him: polished, disciplined, and forged in blood. Like all powerful cultivators, he exuded a unique spiritual signature, a sort of vibration or “color” that told you everything about what kind of force they were.

It was a thing among cultivators. A kind of unspoken canon. You don’t always need to fight someone to know if they can kill you. That was how they could measure cultivation realms, too.

Thus, I could tell… Zhu Shin was a dangerous person. To me? Some would argue the result wouldn't be obvious, unless General Zhu Shin tried first, but my money was on him dying… In conclusion, I'd win, no diff.

I took a slow breath, jaw tight. My fingers twitched. I could’ve snapped his wrist. Could’ve shattered the rooftop beneath us. But I kept it in check. Barely.

“Get your hand off me,” I said, tone level.

For a second, I thought he’d test me. Then, with a grudging grunt, he let go. But the look in his eyes didn’t change. Still intense. Still watching me like I was a blade pointed at the throne.

Smart man.

“Follow me,” he said.

And I did. Not because he ordered me to.

But because I had unfinished business with an Emperor.

Nongmin still owed me a slap or two.

That thought sat real comfortable in my chest as I followed Zhu Shin down the winding steps of the Imperial Palace. The general walked like a glacier with purpose: slow, controlled, but every step sounded like it could flatten a small army. I walked a step behind, arms folded behind my back like some casual noble, though my Divine Sense was spread out like a net. Old habit. Never trust a walk into the lion’s den, no matter how friendly the lion pretends to be.

I mean, sure, we painted his dying mother under a bodhi tree. Shared a quiet night, let some grief breathe, offered closure even. That counted for something.

But.

It didn’t erase the fact that Nongmin had pulled strings behind the scenes like a master puppeteer. Had watched my friends die, or nearly die, just to move pieces across some divine board. Had manipulated me, even if for what he thought was a good cause.

So yeah.

He still owed me a slap or two. Minimum.

And I wasn’t about to let him forget that.