Chapter Twenty-Three: The Dream (Who is the Queen on the Throne)

Suddenly, a surge of black spiritual energy erupted, sweeping across the surroundings like a turbulent tide.

Looking down from the sky, one could see a massive circular crater where all the surrounding flowers, grass, and trees had been obliterated, a testament to the terrifying power of that black energy. Within the pit stood Li Ziyuan, radiating an eerie, black aura that was as majestic and imposing as it was sinister.

This shocking scene was witnessed by Li Yue’er, who had just arrived with a basket of food. She had never seen Li Ziyuan like this. His cultivation had reached the fifth ring of the Spirit Gathering Realm—a jump of four minor stages from his original level. Just as Yue’er was about to cry out his name, Ziyuan vanished like a phantom and reappeared before her, his hand clamping tight around her fair throat.

"Ziyuan, it’s me, Yue’er," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to reach him. "What has happened to you? Don’t you remember me?"

But Ziyuan, consumed by rage, could hear nothing. He tightened his grip, causing Yue’er to drop the basket, spilling the braised pork inside. The rich aroma of the dish wafted through the air. This pork had been prepared by Ling’er’s mother—a dish the Li family had never tasted before. Yet, the simple scent caught Ziyuan’s attention; he released his grip on Yue’er’s neck.

Lost in his madness, Ziyuan picked up a pair of chopsticks, grabbed a piece of the pork, and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed as if caught in a lingering memory.

At that moment, Father Li appeared. Having sensed the disturbance and recognizing the return of the ominous black energy, he had rushed to the scene. With a swift movement, he struck Ziyuan unconscious, causing the eerie aura to dissipate instantly.

Father Li turned to Yue’er, asking with concern, "Are you alright, Yue’er?"

"I am fine, Father," she replied, still deeply worried for Ziyuan despite having nearly been killed by him. "What happened to Ziyuan?"

Father Li checked Ziyuan’s pulse and shook his head. "I do not know. This is the second time this has happened to Yuan’er."

Father Li was truly baffled by this black energy. He had encountered cultivators who wielded it—evil practitioners from the Dark Abyss Clan who refined yin energy—but their power lacked the pure, refined intensity of what Ziyuan emitted.

"Will Ziyuan be alright?" Yue’er asked, her face full of worry. "Father, you must help him."

"Don't worry, Yue’er. Yuan’er will be fine. That black energy only manifests at specific moments," Father Li said.

"Specific moments?" Yue’er frowned, struggling to understand.

Father Li had secretly used the "Soul Memory Peering Technique" to examine Ziyuan’s mind, learning of his tragic past. He hypothesized that the awakening of this energy was linked to those painful memories. Although he knew this youth was not his biological son, Li Yuan, but rather a soul from an unknown place named Li Ziyuan, it did not matter; the boy possessed all of Li Yuan’s memories, and thus, he was his son.

Father Li recalled the first time he saw Ziyuan manifest the energy. Ziyuan had been dazed, his face twisted in agony, shifting between rage and despair. He concluded that extreme anger, pain, or despair acted as catalysts. If any one of these emotions reached its peak, the black energy would awaken.

Father Li didn't know if his analysis was correct. He had tried to seal the energy, but he could find no trace of it within Ziyuan’s body—it was as elusive as a ghost, appearing and vanishing without a trace.

"Yue’er," Father Li said, "Yuan’er may have contracted a rare condition I have never seen before. He only transforms under extreme duress. He must save himself; if he can master this energy, he will turn danger into opportunity. If he cannot, it will lead to disaster, perhaps even harming others."

Hearing this, Yue’er felt a sting in her heart, realizing Ziyuan must be carrying deep, unspoken burdens. "No matter what happens to him," she declared firmly, "even if he loses control and risks his own life, I will never leave his side."

Father Li looked at her with mixed emotions, thinking how foolishly devoted she was, yet noting that she bore a striking resemblance to his own wife in her youth. He hoisted the unconscious Ziyuan onto his shoulder, and the two headed toward the farmhouse.

Yue’er, meanwhile, had noticed something significant: Ziyuan seemed to love the braised pork. She decided she would learn to cook it and add it to his recipe book.

***

(In Ziyuan's Dream)

Ziyuan found himself in a pitch-black void.

"Why is it so dark? Where is this?"

*Poof, poof, poof.*

Suddenly, the sound of flames igniting filled the air. White fire erupted along the sides of a grand, gloomy hall, illuminating the space. Two rows of hulking warriors, clad in ink-black armor and wearing striking masks, stood on either side, exuding an oppressive, majestic aura. Their gaze toward Ziyuan was subtle and indescribable.

Ziyuan’s eyes, however, were fixed on a woman sitting upon a black throne.

She sat in silence, her deep-colored garments outlining a perfect figure—mysterious and elegant. Her jade-like legs were partially visible through the slits in her skirt, radiating an irresistible allure. Her full, graceful posture revealed the charm of a mature woman.

Half of her face was veiled in black silk, leaving only one deep, enchanting eye visible. A black mole near her right eye shone like a unique star in the night sky, adding to her mystery. She wore a crown, and though her full appearance remained obscured, her presence was undeniably noble and regal.

She rested her hands casually on the armrests, her legs crossed, a posture both languid and filled with the confidence of one who controls everything. Her expression was complex and profound, as if she could see through all things. Her temperament was chillingly cold, like a queen from the depths of darkness—one dared not approach her, yet was deeply drawn to her.

Any outsider would have been paralyzed by the sheer pressure of her presence, but Ziyuan felt no fear; instead, he felt a strange sense of familiarity.

"Where is this place?" Ziyuan asked first.

The queen on the throne replied casually, "You are merely in a dream I have created. What? Are you so unwilling to stay with me?" Her voice was like celestial music, endlessly enchanting.

Ziyuan looked at his surroundings. This bizarre place was certainly not Qingyan Village. Could it be that he was truly dreaming?