Chapter Twenty-Seven: Senior Brother

Wu did not know the currency rules here, nor did he dare to ask.

Across from him, the baby-faced youth finished his last steamed bun, then suddenly looked up, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downed a large bowl of soy milk.

With a loud "thud," he set the bowl down. His legs tensed, and he vaulted from the stool. After landing on his toes and spinning half a circle, he snatched two napkins from a dispenser—the entire sequence was fluid and practiced.

He was fast, but the bun shop owner was faster.

Just as the baby-faced youth reached the door, seemingly certain of his escape, the owner blurred into a phantom, teleporting from the prep area to block the boy’s path.

"You little brat, you must have a death wish, trying to dine and dash in my shop in broad daylight."

"Exactly! How shameless. Do you have any idea how hard the owner works to make these buns?"

Wu, still chewing a mouthful of bun, shot up from his seat and pointed a finger stained with broth at the youth, scolding him. His plan was to use the conflict between the boy and the owner to create a distraction and slip away himself.

To his surprise, in front of him and the other customers, the youth suddenly flopped to his knees.

"Please... please don’t hit me. Just give me one more bun... just one more."

In the end, Wu and the baby-faced youth were both tossed out by the owner.

"Just what kind of power does this bun shop owner have? He feels even stronger than my master," Wu thought, rubbing his aching backside.

Once outside, the baby-faced youth seemed like a different person. He casually straightened his clothes and pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket to put on. With the glasses, he took on a scholarly air, a stark contrast to the boy who had been begging on his knees moments before.

Wu felt his mind struggle to process this. The boy before him felt somewhat Lovecraftian—undefined, incomprehensible, indescribable.

Since he had just used the boy for his own ends, Wu walked over to strike up a conversation anyway.

"Hey, nice to meet you. My name is Wu, and I just arrived here."

The youth remained cold-faced but answered him. "Zhang Deshuai. I haven't been here long either."

"What a casual name," Wu muttered to himself. Looking at the expressionless Zhang Deshuai, he felt an inexplicable itch and continued, "This place isn't what I imagined. I’m new and don't know the rules. What currency do I need to pay for food in this space? Is it virtual currency?"

"It’s attribute points."

"Attribute points?"

"Yes, they are the universal currency of the Dream-Entry Space. For instance, a steamer of buns costs 0.1 random attribute points."

"Oh... that’s actually quite cheap." Wu scratched his head, feeling embarrassed.

"If I had known it only cost 0.1 points, I wouldn't have tried to skip out on the bill," he added.

Zhang Deshuai rolled his eyes. "The owner worked hard to make those buns; why is your first thought to stiff him?"

"Weren't you the one who tried to stiff him first?" Wu felt speechless but didn't say it out loud, as he still needed to extract more information from this man.

"This is my first time entering a dream. Please, Brother Zhang, enlighten me on the uses of these attribute points."

Zhang Deshuai glanced at him again and said coldly, "As the number of Dream-Menders has surged, the rules of the Dream-Entry Space have become increasingly refined. When I first arrived, you could only use points for simple trade; now, they’ve expanded to include conversion and storage."

Although Zhang Deshuai remained expressionless, he patiently answered every question. According to him, the rules of the Dream-Entry Space were constantly evolving, becoming more detailed with the influx of new Menders.

"How was such an intricate and complex space created?" The more he learned, the more he marveled at the wonder of the Dream-Entry Space.

Wu refocused his mind and asked, "One last thing, Brother Zhang. Do you know someone named Hong Lei? I need to find him."

"The one with the sleazy air, a face like a pile of thunder, wrinkled skin, big yellow teeth, and a limp?" Zhang Deshuai countered.

"Yes, that's him."

"Then follow me. I was just about to go find him, too."

The two walked along the pedestrian street and soon found Hong Lei at a candied hawthorn stand. Hong Lei was chatting with a thin man nearby and, seeing them approach, waved with a radiant face.

"Good disciple, come, over here!"

Wu assumed his master was calling him and stepped forward, only to realize that Zhang Deshuai was walking alongside him. Wu looked at him, then at the distant Hong Lei, and suddenly understood.

"This Zhang Deshuai must be the 'madman' senior brother my master mentioned."

"How could there be such a coincidence in the world?" Recalling the sight of Zhang Deshuai kneeling at the bun shop, three black lines appeared on Wu's forehead. "If we're talking about being a madman, I truly concede defeat."

How much courage did it take to make such a fool of oneself in front of everyone? Just recalling the scene made Wu’s face burn with embarrassment.

As they walked, he felt awkward. Looking back, the figure who was a head taller than him stayed perfectly in step, his broad shoulders nearly pushing Wu into the roadside gutter.

"Why is this big oaf walking in lockstep with me?" Wu thought, deliberately slowing down to break the rhythm, only to find that Zhang Deshuai slowed down with him.

"Fine, I’ll just walk forward with my eyes closed."

They continued, looking like a lopsided crab from a distance. Finally, just as they reached Hong Lei and Wu breathed a sigh of relief, Zhang Deshuai had another fit of madness, tripping Wu with his flip-flopped foot and sending him sprawling.

"On purpose. This guy did that on purpose."

Seeing this, Hong Lei just smiled awkwardly at the person next to him, appearing quite used to it. "Don't mind them, my mad disciple is always like this."

As if to cover the awkwardness, he introduced Wu. "This is my second disciple, Wu. He’s only entered a dream once; he’s still a rookie."

The thin man reached out a hand to Wu: "Hello, I’m Wang Yan. I’ve entered a dream five times."

"Hello, Brother Wang." Wu smiled and shook his hand. He was surprised to find Wang Yan’s hands wrapped in bandages, and the texture of his hand was extremely strange—like a sponge soaked in water.

After letting go, Wang Yan pointed behind him. "That girl is Chang Jingjing. She’s also a rookie who’s only entered a dream once."

Only then did Wu notice a girl eating a candied hawthorn. She was thin, pale-skinned, and wore a simple white T-shirt and denim shorts. With long black hair and bangs slightly covering her eyes, she looked very quiet.

Wu could tell that it wasn't that she lacked presence, but that she was concealing her aura. It wasn't intentional, but rather an unconscious, innate trait. Had they not been introduced, he likely wouldn't have noticed the little girl in the corner at all.

"An assassin?"

In truth, it wasn't just Wu who could tell; everyone could. Just as Hong Lei hadn't mentioned his black blade, Wang Yan hadn't mentioned the girl’s status as an assassin.

How many ordinary people could enter the Dream-Entry Space after death and successfully survive the nightmares? Everyone had secrets, but everyone tacitly agreed not to speak of them.