Chapter 145: “Meng Na’s” Morning

Chapter 145: Meng Na's Morning Routine

As it turned out, even a True God could hardly resist the temptations of the internet and staying up late.

At three in the morning, Yi Fengchu's apartment was still brightly lit.

Hugging a soft pillow, he reclined on the sofa, scrolling intently through a forum on his phone. Occasionally, a few small snakes slithered out from his body, their pale shadows winding between the kitchen and the living room, diligently bringing their master tea and water.

"Kurt actually had such worries when writing the scriptures?" Yi Fengchu muttered to himself as he came across a post from one of his followers seeking advice. "No wonder his tone seemed subdued during his prayers these past few days..."

"Though these personas wouldn’t quarrel over their order of mention in the prologue, the idea of randomizing the order is quite good."

After all, now, he stood alone.

After a brief chuckle, Yi Fengchu stared blankly at his phone screen for a moment. The night wind outside grew bitingly cold, howling against the window.

After a while, he consoled himself:

"At least Li Lanyin and Kurt remain eligible for inclusion in the Book of Saints. Otherwise, if every saintly figure were merely my own performance, it would feel far too lonely."

Perhaps because it was late, Yi Fengchu’s enthusiasm for the forum gradually waned, and his fingers absently flicked across the screen.

Suddenly, he sensed that the golden cup he’d carelessly cast into the River of Fate had been disturbed. Immediately, he directed his consciousness toward the wave that bore the cup.

Posing as Wu Suer, he had claimed that the cup would drift with the currents until he found a fresh, compatible vessel.

But in truth, the moment Yi Fengchu cast the cup, he had etched its fate—

When the time came for him to further investigate Longinus, when the identity of Wu Suer needed to return to the stage... this golden cup would naturally be pushed ashore by the ever-present tides of fate, reappearing in the world in some unknown form.

Yet even Yi Fengchu hadn’t expected this inscrutable juncture to arrive so soon...

Remembering Elius’s account about the "reflection in the painting," Yi Fengchu couldn’t help but form some conjectures. He then roused the sliver of his consciousness that had been resting within the golden cup.

Thus, in the endless darkness of Meng Siyou’s nightmare, the gleaming golden chalice materialized before him, the heart within it slowly resuming its pulse—thudding once... then again...

Deep within the heart, a lithe serpent coiled in crimson folds opened its eyes, as if rousing from a brief hibernation.

With a whisper of scales, it uncoiled, causing the heart to beat even more violently and loudly.

And so, before Meng Siyou escaped the nightmare, he heard those enigmatic utterances.

This was a narrative device Yi Fengchu had adopted from reading screenwriting manuals: every story’s beginning needed a hook to set the suspense.

Otherwise, how else could the audience—who also played supporting roles—be thoroughly engaged to seek answers and explore?

……

Amid the deafening heartbeat, Meng Siyou wrenched awake from his nightmare.

His leg instinctively kicked out, nearly catapulting him from his chair and sending it toppling over.

Dazed, it took him a moment to realize he had succumbed to exhaustion while drafting his report, collapsing onto his desk in exhaustion.

For an Ability User, this was highly unusual.

Generally, mid-rank and higher Ability Users possessed extraordinary control over their physical states. If they wished, they could precisely control every muscle, adjust their heartbeat and breathing, and work tirelessly for days on end without accidentally falling asleep.

But ever since Meng Siyou had been cursed by that eerie portrait, he could no longer resist sleep.

Every night, an unseen force clawed at his mind, dragging him into the yawning abyss of nightmares.

Meng Siyou had noted the time—he could hold out until midnight at the latest, but by 12:45, he was powerless to resist the overwhelming drowsiness.

Dreams would crash over him like a tidal wave, submerging his lucid thoughts in an instant.

As his muddled mind gradually cleared, Meng Siyou looked down and his breath caught in horror—

In his startled awakening, his knee had slammed into the underside of the desk with a resounding bang, knocking over the coffee cup on the table!

Watching the brown liquid spread across the desk, creeping toward his painstakingly written report, Meng Siyou frantically snatched desperately at tissues, scrambling to wipe up the mess.

Amid the chaos, he heard a ghostly chuckle echoed in his skull.

It was as if someone had witnessed his flustered state through his own eyes and couldn’t help but be derisively amused by his predicament.

That voice...

Meng Siyou’s hands freezing mid-motion as images from his dream flashed before him—the silver-white river, the golden cup upon it, and that enormous, pulsating heart...

All these bizarre visions swarmed his mind like agitated moths, ice crawling down his vertebrae:

Why was this voice inside his head?

Had the entity associated with the golden cup followed him into the material world?

Perhaps sensing the dangerous thoughts swirling in his mind, the voice emitted a disapproving click before drawling, "Instead of overthinking, I’d suggest you focus on saving your desk first."

It then muttered under its breath, "I do hope the bodies I temporarily inhabit can at least uphold basic cleanliness."

...Well, the 'malevolent spirit' from the golden cup had not only followed him into reality but was also kindly reminding him to keep things clean.

This was utterly bizarre!

And so incongruous with the sinister, mysterious, and malicious presence he had imagined!

Meng Siyou could only feel the situation descending deeper into the surreal. With a blank expression, he finished tidying the desk, gradually recognizing a familiar lilt beneath the voice.

Hesitating, he tentatively called out, "Is that... Mr. Chu Fu?"

"Yes, and no."

The voice paused before replying, "The persona of Chu Fu has reached its end. Now, you may call me Wu Suer—or 'the prophet.'"

"Wu Suer"—his true identity, then.

Meng Siyou thought to himself, no wonder his voice sounded so different now. He must have shed the Chu Fu mantle and reverted to his original tone.

Since this was a High Being he had interacted with before, Meng Siyou relaxed slightly and cautiously asked, "Prophet, may I ask why you appeared in my dream?"

Of course, he also wanted to inquire about the false god known as the "reflection in the painting."

Had the prophet descended into his dream under the will of the Narrator behind the scenes, tasked with eliminating opposing or disrespectful false gods?

Though his mind raced with questions, Meng Siyou dared not voice them outright.

In the world of the mysterious, delving into forbidden knowledge beyond one’s station was itself a transgression.

The leniency and tolerance displayed by the powerful thus far did not mean others could overstep freely—Meng Siyou understood this well.

"Perhaps it's because you carry some kind of opportunity that can help me achieve my goal?"

Wu Suer pondered for a moment before casually adding, "Actually, I can't be certain—maybe it's all the guidance of fate."

Meng Siyou: "..."

What kind of answer was that? How was it any different from no response at all?

Damn cryptic bastard!

Just then, Wu Suer seemed to sense something and abruptly changed the subject: "I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"

Meng Siyou looked utterly baffled but still replied honestly, "The good news first."

"The good news is, you don’t have to worry about your report for now."

Wu Suer’s voice carried a hint of amusement, sincerely congratulating him on escaping the burdensome paperwork.

However, Meng Siyou couldn’t feel happy at all.

Because what usually followed good news was...

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and asked, "Then what’s the bad news?"

"The bad news is, you’ve been marked by the 'Reflection in the Painting'—a false god who once stole the scepter of a True God. Soon, you’ll be dragged into a special instance by His power."

"Not many players get this...privilege. Feeling privileged?"

"What?"

Meng Siyou’s mind went blank. He raised his voice in shock, "I just cleared an A-tier dungeon two days ago! According to the system’s usual pattern, I should have at least half a month’s break before entering another—"

Before he could finish, a sickening wave of vertigo hit him. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, like they'd been lined with lead.

The desk, the lamp, the pen—everything in his vision twisted and melted into a nauseating whirl of colors, surging toward him.

He didn’t even have time to react, much less struggle. His last coherent thought drowned as the curse of the false god yanked his soul into another dimension, leaving only an empty body collapsed across the desk like a discarded doll, unconscious.

In that final moment, Meng Siyou faintly heard Wu Suer sigh.

The whole world dissolved in a dizzying blur, yet this one voice cut crystal-clear, calmly promising:

"Don’t worry, I’ll protect you—even in that false god's domain."

......

"Meng Na, Meng Na? Wake up!"

"Today's when the Duke's girl picks her new pet. We can't afford to miss this..."

A woman's insistent voice pierced Meng Na’s eardrums, dragging her from sleep—only to meet a horrifying face.

Her breath hitched. The figure hunched over her bed had an intact upper face, but the lower half looked as if it had been scorched by flames. The burned meat barely clung to the exposed white bone of her jaw, baring a death's-head grin.

The jawbone worked, needle-teeth gnashing as a black maw where a blistered tongue squirmed, like some vile, pulsing grub.

The fleshy worm contorted to shape the woman's words:

"What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The half-skeletal woman smiled as her daughter woke, crowding her child-soft face and affectionately helping Meng Na sit up. "Now that you’re awake, hurry and get dressed. If you’re chosen by Miss Ernos, our family won’t have to worry about food or shelter anymore. You could even study and learn painting with the young lady, living like proper folk..."

...Mother?

The girl, who appeared no older than ten, sat statue-still on the mattress, like her mind refused to catch up.

Meng Na felt confused. Why did this woman stir nothing in her?

Yet her memories told her this was the woman who had toiled in the fields, breaking her back to feed her...

But Meng Na still felt uneasy—even afraid.

As if everything before her was utterly foreign and dangerous. Some animal instinct screamed danger, making her skin crawl.

Dazed, Meng Na let her mother pull her up and seat her before a foxed old mirror. There, she saw her reflection.

She had thick, curly brown hair and eyes as blue as a clear sky—inherited from her mother. Not even the mirror's age could dim their brightness.

Her mother’s burnt face pressed against Meng Na’s ear, the ruined meat twisting into something like a smile. "Blessings to the Nature Sculptor! My Meng Na looks like some storybook angel..."

But Meng Na didn’t smile at the praise. Like some wind-up doll, she let her mother comb her hair while staring blankly at her reflection, a strange thought surfacing in her mind—

Did she... really look like this?

Why did her own reflection feel so unfamiliar?

The longer she stared, the more she felt the brown-haired, blue-eyed girl in the mirror was also watching her, eyes swimming with something vile.

In a daze, she thought she saw her reflection’s lips move, mouthing silent words—

"Thief!"

"Identity-stealing thief!"

Before she could dwell on it, her mother's work-rough hands snagged a strand of her hair. Meng Na yelped in pain, and when she blinked and looked back at the mirror, the eerie vision had vanished.

The girl in the mirror simply stared back, as if it had all been a sleepy delusion.

Soon, the middle-aged woman finished braiding Meng Na’s hair and handed her an elaborate puff-sleeved dress. "Had this made special by Old Man Tailor. Try it on!"

"Once you're all prettied up in this, you must behave properly and obediently. Make sure Miss Ernos takes a shine to you. This chance won't come again..."

Her mother’s chatter became white noise as Meng Na sat stiffly, fisting the frilly pink fabric. The fancy stitching bit into her skin, but she barely noticed, swallowed by some deep-buried shame...

Why did this feel like her first time wearing such frills?