Suddenly.

The old Monk stopped tapping his wooden fish and let out a long sigh.

SHOO.

The long-burning candles in the main hall flickered violently, then, in an instant, went out one by one.

In a flash, the main hall was plunged into darkness, so dark one couldn’t see their hand in front of their face.

"CAW—"

No one knew when a pitch-black Raven had perched on the hall’s rafters. It wasn’t until the candlelight in the room was completely extinguished that the Raven cawed, its cry shrill and bizarre.

"Since you’re here, why not show yourself?"

The old Monk spoke to the empty doorway.

As if it understood human speech, the Raven on the rafters dove down and began to circle slowly by the door.

As the Raven flew, black feathers began to fall from its body.

First, one of the feathers twisted and squirmed in the darkness, transforming like flesh and blood into a second Raven.

The second Raven continued to fly, shedding more feathers.

More and more Ravens filled the air of the main hall. Each feather seemed to become living flesh and blood, materializing out of thin air into a lively, black Raven.

The swirling flock of Ravens was like a storm. The flying birds crashed into each other, twisting together into a single mass. The Ravens shrieked as they collided, turning into blood and mangled flesh.

In the corner, the forcibly combined blood and flesh formed something like a deep black hole, an abyss. Then, a figure with unnaturally long limbs slowly walked out.

The dark figure was wrapped in tattered black cloth. Most striking was a head of messy, dry, snow-white hair. On its gaunt face, its eyes were covered with several thick layers of red fabric. Within the red cloth, six faint, blood-red glimmers flickered, like six eyeballs hidden behind the red blindfold. The sight was chilling.

If Zheng Xiu were here, he would be shocked to discover that the abyss-like miasma formed from the flesh and blood of the Ravens was somewhat similar in shape to the Passage that appeared when he opened the Post Station in the Heart Prison.

After the strange, not-quite-human figure with long limbs and white hair walked out of the Passage, it stood quietly to the side.

"HUFF—"

"HUFF—"

As its chest rose and fell, its long, drawn-out breaths echoed through the main hall.

"Ye Weiyang, the Crow Fosterer."

The old Monk identified the strange figure, but his murky eyes did not linger on the Crow Fosterer. Instead, they were fixed on the raven Passage.

"National Preceptor, oh National Preceptor," the old Monk sighed. "Have you been well?"

"The National Preceptor is dead. I am the Night Lord." A powerful, resonant voice came from within the Passage. The speaker did not show himself.

The old Monk fell silent.

The Night Lord laughed. "Thank you for personally delivering the painting into the hands of the Human Pillar."

The old Monk closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. "That was their choice. It has nothing to do with me."

The Night Lord was silent for a moment, then said, "Old friend, you need not feel guilty. This place is nothing more than a grand dream of the Void. You’ve known this all along. Why so attached?"

The old Monk said, "If one never wakes from the dream, then it is real."

"A dream is still a dream. What is false can hardly become real. All I am doing is righting a wrong, setting everything back on its proper course."

The old Monk said, "What a sin."

The Night Lord replied, "It is no sin."

A pained expression crossed the old Monk’s face. "Please leave."

From beginning to end, the mysterious Night Lord never revealed himself.

TOK TOK TOK.

The old Monk resumed tapping the wooden fish, his heart heavy.

The Crow Fosterer silently turned and walked back into the Passage.

The pitch-black, deep Passage gradually shrank. Before it vanished completely, the Night Lord’s voice seemed to come from the edge of the sky, distant and lingering.

"A thought is born, a thought dies. You and I were both born in an illusory dream, and we will die as fleeting bubbles."

"He... must absolutely not awaken."

Leaving behind this strange sentence, the Crow Fosterer, the Passage, and the Night Lord completely vanished before the old Monk’s eyes.

PHOOM, PHOOM, PHOOM, PHOOM.

After the Passage disappeared, the extinguished candles reignited, and light returned to the main hall.

Where the Raven Passage had disappeared, a puddle of thick, black liquid, like asphalt, remained.

BANG!

Suddenly. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

A figure smashed through the temple doors, landing on all fours like a wild beast. Its nose twitched, as if it had caught a scent.

The person’s face was savage, their pupils vertical slits. It was none other than Ruchen, who had just seen the guests out.

"Cough! You old bald donkey, you dare try to harm me!"

Ruchen’s face was twisted with Madness. His throat trembled as he let out a hoarse roar.

He swung his arms and charged at the old Monk, but his foot slipped on the thick, black liquid. He tumbled head over heels, rolling toward the old Monk.

"Wait a moment."

"Wait a moment."

The old Monk used his Wait and See Zen. Ruchen’s rolling slowed, and by the time he reached the old Monk, he was gently lowered from mid-air to land perfectly, kneeling on a prayer cushion with his eyes shut tight.

"Wait a moment. Don’t be hasty."

The old Monk’s grave expression gradually softened as he stroked Ruchen’s bald head.

"Don’t be so hasty."

The old Monk’s hand circled over the bald head, and the more it moved, the calmer Ruchen’s expression became.

The three words "Wait a moment" were like an enchanting sound entering his ears. Ruchen’s twisted expression instantly transformed into that of an innocent child, like a white lotus growing from the mud, unstained, reflecting his true heart.

Ruchen opened his eyes, gave a playful wink, and stuck out his tongue with a laugh. "Hee hee hee... Thank you, Master~"

The candlelight was bright, illuminating Ruchen’s tongue. On it was a strange tattoo.

The tattoo’s characters were clear; it was distinctly the one word: "Renchen"!