Sunny stood silent for a moment, the Poet's words still echoing in his mind.
Untouched by the dream realm.
Chosen.
He let out a low breath, his voice sharp but quiet.
"So… all this time, everyone thought Amon kills people. But he doesn't. He drags them somewhere else."
His fists tightened.
"Then why hide it? Is he scared? Or…" His eyes narrowed. "Or is he just someone's tool? And if he is… then who the hell is pulling his strings?"
No one had an answer. Not Shen. Not the Poet.
The silence in the cavern was suffocating.
Finally, Sunny straightened, forcing a grin he didn't feel.
"Whatever. I'll find out myself."
Shen's jaw tightened, but he didn't stop him. "Take care. Don't be reckless."
The Poet only gave a small nod, his usual smirk absent.
"Don't die, Sunny. That's my line."
Sunny smirked faintly. "No promises."
---
The black stone door pulsed under his palm, the hum deepening.
Then—light.
Clouds swirled across his vision, weightless and endless. A voice, distant but clear, brushed against his mind.
"You have been here before," it said, calm, almost indifferent.
"But this time… you will not be a prisoner. You will receive what is yours."
Sunny blinked, the world shifting violently around him.
---
When the dizziness faded, he was standing somewhere else.
A place he recognized.
The Dream Realm.
But unlike before, when he'd been dragged here against his will, this time… he felt it. Control. Freedom.
The vast expanse of the realm spread out around him—silent, endless, and heavy with something ancient. He exhaled slowly, steadying his racing heart, and began to walk.
---
The ruins appeared first. Broken stone and fractured pillars, half-consumed by vines. And then… the throne.
It sat in the center, carved entirely of ancient stone, cracked but unyielding. Vines coiled around its base like frozen serpents. A skeleton slumped against it, its hollow gaze locked on eternity.
In its bony hands rested something fragile—an old sheet of paper, worn but perfectly preserved.
Sunny's brows furrowed as he reached out, carefully taking it. The words on the paper were sharp, deliberate, each letter etched with purpose:
---
How difficult is the perseverance of one person?
All of Gu immortals here could answer that question. Some persevered because of responsibility. Some persevered because of love. Some persevered because of hate.
But me?
I was different. I had once screamed—until I lost my voice. I had once cried—until I had no tears left. I had once grieved—until I learned to endure everything. I had once rejoiced—until nothing in the world could move me anymore.
Now, all that's left is this expressionless face, and a gaze as unshakable as a monolith. Only perseverance remains in my heart.
This is my own insignificant character. Fang Yuan. Perseverance.
---
Sunny stared at the paper for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curled into something close to a smile.
"…Interesting," he muttered. "I'll have to read more about this… Fang Yuan."
But no matter how hard he searched, there was nothing else—no book, no other message. Just the throne, the vines, and that lone skeleton waiting in its eternal vigil.
And then, as if on instinct, his gaze fell to a strange indentation at the base of the throne. A small, empty hollow—shaped like it was meant to hold something.
A seed.
Sunny's pulse quickened.
"So that's it," he murmured. "I need to find it. Complete this realm."
For the first time since entering the Dream Realm, he felt the corners of his lips tug into a genuine grin.
This place wasn't a cage anymore.
It was an opportunity.