“I don’t understand.” Tianlong also raised his head, gazing at the sky with eyes that didn’t exist. “What have I done?”
“Yu Nian’an.” Qi Xia pointed at the sun in the sky. “Even in my dream, you’re trying to deliver the most profound despair to me. You hung Yu Nian’an up there—what else is there to say?”
Tianlong froze for a moment at this, turning his head to look at Qi Xia. After a long silence, he spoke slowly, “White Sheep… how strange.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you recovered all your memories?” Tianlong mused. “Are you bluffing me?”
Qi Xia’s brows furrowed slightly, sensing something imperceptible flash through his mind.
“White Sheep, I am ‘The Original,’ ‘The Artisan,’ and also ‘The Dreamweaver,'” Tianlong said. “And you are ‘The Everlasting.’ Have you ever stopped to think—which of us is more likely to create such a spectacle of flesh and blood?”
“Wha—”
Tianlong observed Qi Xia’s reaction, as if confirming a suspicion in his mind. He sighed softly and murmured, “White Sheep, do you think she’s afraid of me?”
“Isn’t she…?”
“If she’s afraid of me… why wouldn’t she turn her pupils to look at you?” Tianlong pressed. “The last time she looked at you, her eyes were filled with terror. Why was that?”
Qi Xia’s eyes widened slowly, realizing the situation was slipping out of control.
Tianlong exhaled deeply. “White Sheep, what you’re about to see and hear from me may shatter your current understanding of everything. Brace yourself.”
With that, he glanced back into the room and, with a mere flick of his wrist, summoned an unseen force.
*Thud!*
A grotesque sound of colliding bones echoed.
Qi Xia looked down at the skeletal giant clock swaying violently in the square outside the window—its massive form teetering on the brink of shattering itself.
At the same time, the “screen” beneath the clock trembled, and countless bluish-black veins writhed before forming four nearly illegible words:
**”The Artisan. The Original.”**
Before Qi Xia’s eyes, Tianlong conjured a chair beside the grotesque flesh-made seat Qi Xia had crafted earlier. A scrap of wood materialized out of thin air, then, under the strokes of an invisible blade, gradually took the shape of an ornate high-backed chair.
Receiving no response from Qi Xia, Tianlong gestured toward the street outside. Something erupted from the blood-red pavement.
Qi Xia looked down to see a vibrant, verdant tree sprouting at the center of the road.
The lush, leafy tree stood starkly against the pulsating flesh-paved street, an anomaly in the grotesque landscape.
“You should have realized this last time,” Tianlong remarked. “When I create something with my power… what material does it take? Flesh and blood…?”
Still met with silence, Tianlong approached the window and stood beside Qi Xia, whispering, “White Sheep… is this city of flesh and blood in your mind… truly my creation? Among all the horrors in this place… which one came from me?”
“You—”
“White Sheep,” Tianlong continued, “I gave you a real dream, but *you* shaped your world into this. Not only did you need me to build this dream for you—you also needed me to help you destroy it, so you could rebuild it anew in flesh and blood. Am I wrong?”
Qi Xia slowly raised his head as fragmented memories surged into his mind.
“To plunge yourself into the deepest despair and gain the greatest strength, you subconsciously cast me as a demon,” Tianlong said. “As I’ve always asked you—why must we fight to the death? We could have coexisted peacefully, even left this place together. Yet you made me your ultimate adversary, planting fear and hatred toward me in your heart, even plotting to erase me from existence. Am I wrong?”
“I—”
“By doing so, you could attribute all the suffering in ‘Peach Blossom Spring’ to me—your own creation, the most formidable imaginary foe. And coincidentally… Azure Dragon long saw through this scheme of yours. He stoked the flames of your delusion, molding me into a tyrannical, irredeemable deity in your mind. Am I wrong?”
“Impossible…” Qi Xia muttered, his expression wavering. “You know what you’ve done.”
“White Sheep, you’re still lying to yourself,” Tianlong said. “If not to avoid facing me, why else would you forsake sleep? It’s your strongest defense—even guarded by Yu Nian’an, a ‘Dreamkeeper.’ I could never harm you there. Yet you still evade sleep because deep down, you know the truth will unravel the moment you meet me a few more times. Am I wrong?”
Qi Xia began to feel dizzy as the entire room trembled faintly.
“You believe we took your wife from you—but how did ‘wife’ come to be? You think I turned her into the sun in your mind—but how did the ‘sun’ come to be? You claim the rules here oppress everyone—but how did the ‘rules’ come to be? You see this broken hellscape filled with deadly games—White Sheep, tell me again, how did those deadliest games come to be?”
Tianlong’s relentless questions left Qi Xia momentarily stunned. The flesh-covered walls of the room began to peel away, reverting to their original state.
“The more you fear and hate me, the deeper your despair grows—until you’re strong enough to kill me and claim dominion over this place,” Tianlong added. “Every word I’ve said—am I wrong?”
“Stop…” Qi Xia lowered his head, his expression unreadable.
The room continued shedding its grotesque flesh, returning to normal.
“Between the two of us… who is the real ‘evil god’ here?” Tianlong turned, his featureless face somehow radiating sorrow. “Even now, your heart brims with murderous intent, while I’ve only ever wanted you to let go—to leave this place with me.”
As he spoke, Tianlong surveyed the restored walls. The room was whole again, free of corruption—Qi Xia’s last sanctuary had returned to purity.
Just as Tianlong relaxed, however, the floorboards suddenly flipped over. Flesh and blood surged back violently, reclaiming every inch.
“How close…” Qi Xia murmured, still staring at the ground. “That was too close…”
“You—”
“Tianlong, if not for that last line of yours… I might have actually believed your lies.”
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