The darkness wasn't warm; rather, it was damp and foul-smelling. It smelled like mold growing on rotting flesh.
Shen Mu's breath hitched. His lungs expanded sharply, inhaling the suffocating, musty air as if he had just been pulled out from the depths of the ocean. His eyes snapped open, staring at a rotting wooden ceiling filled with spiderwebs, not the eternal void of death that should have welcomed him.
"It hurts..."
The pain was real. Not in his soul, which had been shattered in the battle for the Dream Throne in the future, but all over his physical body. Bruises on his ribs, hunger in his stomach, and a coldness that pierced to the bone.
Shen Mu didn't panic. He didn't scream. His pitch-black eyes shifted slowly, scanning the surroundings with an unnatural calmness for someone who had just "come back to life."
The room was narrow, elongated like a giant coffin, filled with dozens of creaking wooden bunk beds. The sounds of snoring, dry coughs, and suppressed sobs from young children filled the air. Dim light from fish-oil lanterns illuminated the thin, pale faces around him.
Shen Mu slowly raised his hand. The hand was thin, calloused, and dirty. Not the hand of a Nightmare Lord who could tear reality asunder, but the hand of a slave.
"Bone Fog Valley Sect..." he mumbled, his voice hoarse. "Year 412 of the New Dream Era. Outer Disciple Barracks."
The corners of his lips lifted slightly, forming a thin smile devoid of joy. It was the smile of a predator rediscovering its hunting ground.
He had returned.
Three hundred years of cultivation, betrayal, and slaughter had been wiped to zero. All his Dream Monsters, all Forbidden Relics, all his authority—gone.
However, his most important asset remained intact.
Memories. Experience. And the ruthlessness forged in the fires of despair.
Bam!
The barracks door was kicked open violently. The night wind, carrying the scent of toxic fog, rushed in, making the dozens of young people inside shiver in fear.
A large youth in a dull gray robe stepped in, followed by two lackeys. His face was oily, wearing a disgusting, condescending smile. Hanging at his waist was a small leather pouch emitting the scent of sandalwood—Soul-Calming Incense.
"Wake up, trash!" shouted the youth. "The sun is setting soon! Selection Night is right before your eyes. Do you plan to sleep until the 'Hounds' eat your intestines inside the dream?"
The atmosphere in the room instantly turned gripping. Outer disciples hurriedly climbed down from their beds, trembling with fear.
Shen Mu's gaze landed on the youth.
Wang Tai.
In the memories of Shen Mu's past life, Wang Tai was the Senior Brother responsible for this barrack. A petty tyrant who extorted the Soul-Calming Incense rations of new disciples. In his previous life, Shen Mu had handed over his incense out of fear, which resulted in him nearly going insane when entering the Dream Realm without protection. The naive Shen Mu of that time survived only by hiding inside the corpse of a teammate.
"You!" Wang Tai pointed straight at Shen Mu, who was still sitting silently on the edge of the bed.
Wang Tai stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Shen Mu, you are the poorest and weakest here. I doubt you can last five minutes in the Dream Realm tonight. Instead of wasting your Soul-Calming Incense ration, hand it over to me. I will pray for your soul to find peace."
The lackeys behind Wang Tai chuckled. The other disciples lowered their heads, grateful that they weren't the target.
Shen Mu stared at Wang Tai. His expression was flat, as if he were looking at a piece of rotting meat, not a threat.
In a split second, Shen Mu's mind raced, analyzing the situation coldly.
Current strength: Low-level ordinary human. Malnourished.Opponent: Wang Tai. Dream Taming Stage 1 Cultivator (Basic). Physically stronger.Direct physical confrontation: 10% win rate, 90% risk of injury. Inefficient.
However, Shen Mu's goal wasn't just survival. He remembered something.
Tonight, in the outer layer of the Dream Realm—the Corpse Forest sector—a rare phenomenon would occur, one that was missed by everyone in his past life. A "Nightmare Fetus" would be born right at midnight.
To catch the Fetus, Shen Mu needed bait. Bait that was fresh, full of fear, and possessed enough spiritual energy to lure it out.
Shen Mu's gaze shifted slowly to Wang Tai's neck, then to the incense pouch at his waist.
The incense was crucial. Not to calm Shen Mu's soul, but to mask the scent of his presence when he set the trap.
"Senior Brother Wang is right," Shen Mu said suddenly. His voice was calm, his head bowing slightly in a perfect gesture of submission.
He reached into the pocket of his dull trousers, pulling out a single small stick of black incense—his last ration.
"My life is cheap," Shen Mu continued, extending the incense with a slightly trembling hand (perfect acting). "If this Incense can help Senior Brother Wang ascend to become an inner disciple, then my death will not be in vain. Please accept this offering."
Wang Tai was stunned for a moment, not expecting such an easy surrender. Usually, these rats would cry and beg. However, greed quickly took over. He snatched the incense roughly from Shen Mu's hand.
"Hahaha! Good! At least you have some self-awareness!" Wang Tai patted Shen Mu's cheek hard, strong enough to leave a red mark. "Don't worry. If you die later, I'll have someone dump your body in a decent ditch, not leave it to be eaten by wild dogs."
Wang Tai turned around, laughing with satisfaction while playing with his stolen incense, then walked out to extort the next victim.
Shen Mu remained bowed until Wang Tai's back disappeared behind the door. Slowly, he raised his head.
The submissive and trembling expression vanished instantly.
It was replaced by an icy calmness that made the surrounding temperature seem to drop a few degrees.
"Enjoy it while you can, Wang Tai," Shen Mu thought. "You need that incense to sleep soundly. But I need it to lure something far worse than death."
The incense Shen Mu handed over was a standard ration. But the pouch at Wang Tai's waist contained the accumulation from dozens of disciples. That amount... was enough for Shen Mu's plan.
In this post-apocalyptic world, where morality had crumbled and nightmares became reality, Shen Mu knew one absolute law: He who wants to be a hunter must have the heart to feed fellow humans to the lions.
Clang... Clang... Clang...
The great bronze bell at the peak of the valley tolled, its echo heavy and mournful. Purple fog began to creep in through the cracks of the barracks' windows.
The sun had set completely.
The boundary between reality and the Dream Realm began to thin.
Selection Night had begun.
And Shen Mu... he couldn't wait to start hunting.