Chapter Seven: Have You Ever Heard of Witches?

When he returned home, Chen Zi’ang went up to the second-floor balcony and gazed out at the Tone River. After pondering for a long time, he dialed the number of Miss Sui Kazari, the intelligence officer of Section Six. It was already nine in the evening, but he was certain that Sui Kazari would still be working overtime at the office.

“Hello.” A cool female voice answered.

“Riyu,” Chen Zi’ang began, gathering his thoughts. “Do you have any more detailed information about the Lord of the Great Deep Sea?”

“Chen,” Sui Kazari replied, “are you planning to transfer to the intelligence team and join me as a keeper of secrets?”

“That’s not my intention for now…”

“Then the more you know, the worse it is for you. No good can come of it.”

“Riyu.” Chen Zi’ang sighed. “I just want to know some less harmful information—for example, if someone uses a descent ritual to communicate with it, what sort of attitude and tendencies does it display?”

“Chen,” Sui Kazari’s voice grew even colder, “you should know that analyzing the attitudes and tendencies of deities is meaningless. Most of them are like capricious children—looking at us as if we’re ants. Perhaps today, they’re friendly to you, but tomorrow they might just crush you without a second thought.”

When Chen Zi’ang said nothing, she let out a faint sigh and continued, “The Lord of the Great Deep Sea is indeed one of the rare deities that isn’t overtly hostile to humanity, but being noticed by it is by no means a blessing.”

“There are 1,356 recorded descent rituals in our archives. Of these, about two hundred resulted in the victims being invited to its divine realm, leaving them in a permanent, semi-vegetative state. Around one-tenth of them woke up within thirty years.”

“All those who awoke showed profound despair. They claimed the Lord’s divine realm was ‘a dreamlike, breathtaking ocean,’ ‘as wondrous as Eden itself.’ But when asked for details about what was inside, or why they left and regained consciousness, these survivors unanimously refused to speak. Any further questioning brought about severe suicidal tendencies.”

“That sounds like severe psychological contamination,” Chen Zi’ang speculated.

“Remove ‘sounds like’ and ‘severe’ from that statement,” Sui Kazari said sternly. “Any thought involving deities is tantamount to suicide.”

“By the way, you only just handled a divine relic this morning, and now you’re contemplating all this at night. I suspect you may already be contaminated to some degree…”

“Riyu.” Chen Zi’ang let out a wry laugh. “I’m a veteran operative…”

“Come in tomorrow morning for a sanity check,” Sui Kazari insisted.

“But I’m off duty tomorrow…”

“Then you can come now.”

Chen Zi’ang: …………

After hanging up, he was left wavering.

Logic told him Sui Kazari was right. The best way to deal with deities was not to deal with them at all.

Yet, on an emotional level, he could not resign himself to letting his sister spend the rest of her days tormented in darkness.

Ever since going blind, the once lively and active Xiao Zhu had barely spoken. The hospital had diagnosed her with a severe mental disorder, and nearly every renowned doctor and specialist was at a loss.

Her trauma stemmed from the torment of blindness, which in turn was caused by a lesion in the part of her brain that processed vision. Even with the best medical care in Extreme North City, there was no way to treat such a condition; his only hope lay in the mysterious realm.

But to venture into the mysteries, he needed the appropriate power.

Thinking of Xiao Zhu, Chen Zi’ang finally made his decision.

He quickly focused his mind on that vast ocean, and his consciousness began to plummet, descending swiftly into a pale violet sea beneath the starry night.

“I wish to exchange for the power of ‘Dreamwalking’,” Chen Zi’ang thought to himself.

The cluster of pale violet jellyfish that formed words soon dispersed, then rearranged into a staircase leading to the depths of the sea. Chen Zi’ang tested a step with his foot and found he could just barely stand.

He began his descent. All around, the enchanting song of sirens echoed, as if announcing he was embarking on a path of no return.

But at this point, there was no turning back…

——————

Chen Zi’ang awoke slowly from his dreams.

He rubbed his eyes, then abruptly recalled his decision the night before to obtain the power of “Dreamwalking.”

He remembered walking down the staircase of jellyfish; the deeper he went, the more exhausted his consciousness became… until he finally drifted into deep sleep. When he awoke, it was morning, and he was already in his bed.

As for how he’d changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed after the ritual, his memory was a complete blank.

He closed his eyes and shifted his thoughts; at once, he sensed the fire within him had been depleted, and a torrent of knowledge about “Dreamwalking” was flooding into his mind.

Traditional scientific theory holds that dreams are simply the product of brain activity during sleep.

But the knowledge from the god told him otherwise: dreams are an independent “mental world.”

If the waking world’s depth in the Abyss is a constant zero, the depth of the dream world ranges from zero to three hundred. The shallowest preconscious layers lie at a depth of two to five—utterly safe—while the deepest layers are fraught with peril…

No matter the dangers, Chen Zi’ang had resolved to venture forth for his sister’s sake.

Of course, before that, he needed to check his physical condition.

He traveled by light rail once more to Shinjuku in Extreme North City and entered the Metropolitan Public Security Bureau. He walked into the Section Six office building, entered the special elevator, and pressed the button for the sixth basement level.

Section Six’s Grand Intelligence Vault was built six stories underground, secured as tightly as a bank vault. Cameras were everywhere, the surveillance system even extending into the elevator itself. If a Public Security officer from another section entered, the buttons wouldn’t even light up.

The intelligence team’s domain, surrounded by thick layers of reinforced concrete, was rumored to conceal tons of explosives behind the cement walls. Should anything irreparable occur, the entire area, filled with dangerous knowledge, would be buried deep below ground.

After checking in at the reception outside the intelligence vault, Sui Kazari quickly emerged to greet him.

This intelligence officer of Section Six was a thirty-year-old veteran. She was a rare beauty by her features, but her haggard expression and heavy dark circles greatly diminished her allure. Beneath her lab coat was an unnaturally thin frame, making one worry she might topple over in a strong wind—perhaps that was why she almost never emerged from the underground.

“Lie down on the examination bed.” In her private office, Sui Kazari sat down at her computer and began typing. “You know the drill, right?”

“I do.” Chen Zi’ang lay down, donned the special helmet, and closed his eyes.

“Sanity is stable, no signs of fluctuation.” After a moment with the instruments, Sui Kazari reported, “No sign of contamination.”

“Told you.” Chen Zi’ang said helplessly. “I’m simply curious, that’s all.”

“Who knows, the machines aren’t a hundred percent accurate.” Sui Kazari replied blandly. “Your spiritual perception has risen to thirteen—make sure you keep that in check.”

“I’ll try.” Chen Zi’ang forced a smile.

But spiritual perception was something that would only increase with exposure to the mysterious; it wasn’t something one could control at will.

“Oh, by the way,” she said suddenly, eyes still on her screen as he was about to leave, “the source of that ‘Lord of the Great Deep Sea’ statue you found in Sky Silver Arcade has been confirmed.”

“Chen Zi’ang, have you heard of witches?”