The Dream of Millet, A Pink Ice Lump Dream

The inaugural Mahjong God Tournament of Qingyuan Sect concluded successfully.

The main reason was that the other three players couldn't continue. Watching Little Li rest his head on the flat abdomen of the "Ice Block," the trio wore identical expressions of resentment.

It seemed even more unbearable than losing money.

Elder Hanhe reminded them to visit the Divine Arms Peak before ending this frivolous pastime. Shang Wu was left with a mountain of debt—though Little Li had no intention of making her repay—her elder's stipend had already been completely lost.

If they kept playing, she’d be down to her last undergarments.

With too few players left, Qin Yuzhi, still unsatisfied, sighed reluctantly:

"Guess I’ll have to play in my dreams again."

"You can control your own dreams?"

Li Mo gathered the mahjong tiles, asking curiously.

"A trivial skill, really. Don’t forget I’m a Seventh Realm cultivator."

Qin Yuzhi sniffed, looking rather smug:

"Memory is the root of dreams. Yun Mengxian’s revival is pervasive, so to ensure I don’t slack off even in sleep, I developed this secret technique—aside from traversing others’ dreams, I can also shape my own."

"Well? Want to learn?"

Li Mo was merely intrigued by the peculiar art.

But for the "Ice Block," it might be worth mastering—better safe than sorry.

"No need to repay your mahjong debts."

"Hmph, this technique isn’t easy to learn. But since you’re sincerely asking, I’ll humor you with a lesson."

Half an hour later.

The expression on the former cult leader’s face cycled through: "Not bad, but needs practice"; "Hmm, you’ve got some talent"; and finally, "Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?"

Muttering to herself, she retreated to her room.

Li Mo stood and glanced at the sky. Evening had fallen, cloudless and vast, with a bright moon hanging halfway up the snowy mountain. The wind played with the snowflakes, scattering stardust across the night.

Turning back, he saw Ying Bing sitting bathed in moonlight, her features half-lit, half-shadowed as she quietly flipped through a book, the rustling pages serene.

"The moon is beautiful tonight."

"It is."

Ying Bing glanced up and nodded.

Li Mo smiled.

During their dual cultivation sessions, the two had developed a tacit understanding—like using "the moon is beautiful" as code.

As everyone knew, when the moon shone brightly, the lunar essence was abundant—perfect for meditation. Thus, it became their signal for dual cultivation.

It had been a while since they last admired the moon... ahem, contemplated the lunar essence together.

Cultivation required relentless effort—how could they slack off like this?

"I’ll wait for you in your room."

"Why my room?"

"??"

Li Mo froze. Wasn’t this about dual cultivation?

Then he noticed the mischievous curve of the "Fairy of Frost’s" lips, her moonlit eyes glinting with amusement.

"Tonight, I want to study the Dream Illusion technique. Be good."

"Fine..."

Li Mo couldn’t resist that tone, but his disappointment at missing out on lunar meditation was palpable as he returned to his room.

Oh well. He still had many upper-form and several extreme-form techniques to practice.

Once he mastered the Seven Apertures of Divine Observation, he could inherit another Great Sage’s divine ability.

The lonely figure of Little Li stretched long under the moonlight... very long...

Watching him ascend the stairs, Ying Bing pressed her lips together, lingering a moment longer before rising.

The moment she opened her chamber door, she heard restless tossing from across the hall and sighed inwardly.

She closed the door softly.

By the moonlight, she retrieved the Dream Illusion manual again, reading:

"Day’s thoughts shape night’s dreams."

Indeed, the Dream Illusion technique wasn’t about freely controlling dreams—at least not at the Divine Observation Realm. Only someone like Qin Yuzhi could play mahjong in her dreams.

Instead, it relied on planting deep-seated suggestions in one’s mind, allowing dreams to shift slightly based on those thoughts.

If Li Mo slept beside her...

What would her dreams become?

"Ready."

Ying Bing reviewed the method once more, confirming she’d grasped it correctly.

Then, she began recalling fragments of her past life.

After her rebirth, most memories were clear—except for those shrouded in the Abyss.

Apart from the phrase "the heart is incomplete," she remembered nothing.

She needed to understand why she had failed.

And Ying Huang...

Last time, her counterpart had appeared in her dream. If she could control her dreams now, would things be different?

As these thoughts swirled, drowsiness crept over her.

Suddenly—

[Reminder: System ranking countdown—29 days remaining.]

[Penalty this cycle: Plant forty-nine hickeys.]

[To motivate the host, relevant visuals will now play automatically.]

"?"

The last image flashing before Ying Bing’s eyes as she drifted off was...

From the mind of that "paragon of virtue," Little Li!

......

That night, in the dreams of a certain former Demon Summoning Cult leader...

"Leader, you’re amazing!"

"Eighteen Arhats! Even with these tiles?"

"All hail the Leader, peerless in skill!"

Amid the flattery at the mahjong table, Qin Yuzhi’s gaze drifted to the window—where her memory of the Summoning Sect stood. In this vision, the sect oversaw the world’s harmony, managing the vast power of mortal faith.

A thriving, prosperous scene.

"Master, I’ll be as great as you one day."

Qin Yuzhi turned to see a child of five or six, eyes brimming with innocence and admiration.

One of her disciples.

"Siye, you’ll need to work hard."

She patted his head, smiling, but her heart ached.

Baili Siye...

Was now but a handful of dust.

This dream—once so vivid she could barely distinguish it from reality, a place she’d spent millennia content—now crumbled like sand in the wind.

This dream...

As reality encroached, reached its end.

Qin Yuzhi sighed softly. Her dream-self floated upward, adrift in a river of starlit bubbles—each a dream of someone from Qingyuan Sect.

This was her other secret art: Dreamwalking.

She could traverse countless dreams, even step into them.

Hm?

Suddenly, she paused before one particularly radiant bubble—its hues like condensed moonlight, tinged with faint pink.

"This is... Little Bing’s dream?"

Curiosity sparked in Qin Yuzhi’s eyes.

What kind of dream would someone so aloof and serene have?

......