In the pitch-black darkness, Xiao Cheng tightly shut his eyes.
He felt that he must have already invaded Qi Xia’s dream.
A strange, warm breeze brushed against his skin.
Though he couldn’t smell anything in the dream, Xiao Cheng still felt as if his nostrils were filled with a scorching, suffocating gas.
The sensation was bizarre—it didn’t feel like air at all, but something far more sinister.
Every cell in his body screamed danger, his subconscious screaming at him to flee, to never open his eyes.
It was as if he hadn’t invaded a person’s dream at all, but rather stepped into a hellscape teeming with demons.
Even though he saw nothing, his primal instincts roared to life. Before he could even open his eyes, his hair stood on end, his back drenched in cold sweat.
Xiao Cheng had invaded dreams before, but never had he encountered anything like this. This wasn’t just a mind with strong psychological defenses—it was the nightmare of someone utterly deranged.
*”Brother Qi… you helped me once… now I’m here to help you… You wouldn’t hurt me, right?”*
Slowly, Xiao Cheng opened his eyes—and what he saw nearly shattered his soul.
He had witnessed seven or eight people’s dreams before, both ordinary and nightmares, but none compared to the horror before him now.
*Was this even a dream?*
The first thing that assaulted his vision was an overwhelming sea of crimson. The space was vast, resembling the corner of a mid-sized city at first glance—but upon closer inspection, everything—from the road beneath his feet to the buildings in the distance—was built from pulsating, dark-red flesh.
The flesh throbbed rhythmically, veins faintly pulsing beneath its surface. A haze of red mist hung over it all. Calling it “hell” didn’t quite capture it—it was more like he’d been swallowed alive by some colossal beast.
And on these blood-red streets, countless figures stood in eerie silence.
Every single one of them had no face.
Their features were gone, their heads smooth, blank planes. Yet their facial muscles twitched unnaturally, as if they were trying to form expressions, or perhaps speak.
Xiao Cheng’s blood ran cold.
Only when he realized they weren’t moving—just standing there like scarecrows—did he force himself to calm down, repeating in his mind: *This is just a dream.*
Dazedly, he lifted his head to the sky—only to find that even the heavens were made of the same grotesque flesh, massive veins pulsing faintly overhead. It was as if he really *was* inside some monstrous creature, the red sky nothing more than the lining of its stomach.
Thankfully, he couldn’t smell anything in the dream. Otherwise, he was certain the stench would be unbearable.
Swallowing hard, he mechanically swept his gaze across the crimson “sky”—and froze.
Embedded in that vast expanse of flesh was a single, enormous, moving eye.
The moment Xiao Cheng saw it, the eye swiveled toward him, locking onto his terrified stare.
A single glance, and Xiao Cheng felt his soul leave his body. His hair stood on end, prickling against his clothes.
*How could an eye be that big?!*
The pupil quivered slightly, as if sizing him up from above.
*If this eye is part of the flesh that makes up the sky… does that mean this entire place is alive?*
*And if it is… what the hell is it?*
*”It shouldn’t be able to see me…”* Xiao Cheng muttered, half to reassure himself. *”I’m just an outsider… powerless… it can’t possibly notice me…”*
Yet the eye continued to stare, unblinking. Xiao Cheng tore his gaze away, refusing to let it unnerve him further.
They say dreams reflect one’s thoughts. *What kind of mind could conjure a nightmare like this?*
Just as he stood there, stunned, the sound of flowing water reached his ears. He turned toward the source—a churning “river” cutting through the city’s center.
A small arched bridge spanned the river, as if built for pedestrians to cross.
Xiao Cheng blinked, then slowly approached.
Steeling himself, he peered over the bridge’s edge—and saw thick, viscous blood crashing and roiling below, splashing crimson waves before surging onward.
Then he noticed them—large, pitch-black fish thrashing in the current.
One leaped from the bloody waves, nearly striking his face before plunging back in.
Xiao Cheng’s breath hitched.
The fish, like the faceless figures on the streets, had no eyes, no mouths—just smooth, featureless bodies.
They weren’t jumping to greet him.
They were suffocating.
Struggling in that river of blood, desperate to survive—but how?
They had no gills.
Even if they did, this wasn’t water.
It was blood.
*This wasn’t a nightmare.*
*This was hell.*
Xiao Cheng’s body shook violently before he collapsed to his knees, dry heaving over the bridge’s railing.
He had met Qi Xia, spoken to him briefly. The man had seemed… normal.
*How could his inner world be like this?*
*Did he see this every time he closed his eyes?*
Xiao Cheng hadn’t invaded many dreams, but he was certain only a psychopath could harbor a mind this horrifying.
*”What the hell…”* he gasped between heaves, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand.
Even knowing this was a dream, the realism was unbearable.
Still kneeling, he pressed a palm to the bridge—and recoiled.
It *was* made of flesh.
Not just red in color, but pliant, warm.
With his hand against it, he could feel the city’s heartbeat.
*If this were my nightmare,* Xiao Cheng thought, *I’d never sleep again.*
*”I can’t do this… I can’t handle this ‘dream’…”*
The sheer scale and horror of it all exceeded anything he could influence. Most dreams took place in a room, a small, confined space—but this was an entire city drenched in blood.
Finding Qi Xia’s shattered psyche here?
Finding *Qi Xia himself* would be near impossible.
Xiao Cheng squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and willed himself to wake.
If he stayed any longer, he’d die.
A few seconds passed.
He opened his eyes.
But what greeted him wasn’t the waking world.
It was still this crimson hell.
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