Ch. 64 - Stepping Through the Dream’s Door

I checked my surroundings—nothing off. The seniors were still there, their meditation spaces flickering ethereally. Some exited meditation, their spaces dissolving like mist.

The issue wasn’t them—it was me—my state.

This was a Psi-vision perspective I’d never experienced. It shouldn’t be unbound, detached from my body. I couldn’t just exist as a floating viewpoint.

What was happening? An out-of-body experience?

Panic crept in, fear wrapping around me, but something—probably the room’s calming spell—pushed it back, dulling the edge of my nerves.

I was still myself, but what was this state?

I scrambled for answers, but Psi-vision didn’t help. I felt stuck in a dreamlike world, unreal yet vivid. It hit me—meditation space? No, impossible. This was clearly Psi-vision. I could see the seniors as distinct entities. How could this be a meditation space?

But then a memory surfaced: the meditation room was in the area with the highest “dream activity.”

That phrase—dream activity—clicked. Could this be tied to the dreamlike state I was in?

The idea of dreams forming spaces wasn’t impossible, right? It was the only explanation I could grasp.

As I labeled this a “dream,” everything shifted in a way even Psi-vision couldn’t keep up with. The world morphed to fit my idea of a “dream.”

The seniors faded from my view, one by one, as the surroundings dissolved into nothingness. The overwhelming data from Psi-vision ebbed, leaving only meaningless, empty impressions.

Was this a dream?

I tried to speak, but no sound came. Yet, my voice echoed in my consciousness as if I’d spoken normally.

I paused, needing a moment to process.

Okay… let’s call it a dream for now.

As my memories surfaced, the space changed, reshaping into the meditation room I’d just entered. It made sense—my freshest memory was this room, so the dream recreated it.

I walked to the wall, and as I focused, the hazy scene sharpened. My fingers brushed the rough surface, the faint scrape audible.

I was supposed to be meditating, yet somehow Psi-vision had pulled me here. It was wild, but it hit me: Psi-vision had powers I’d overlooked. I’d always kept it at arm’s length—its early memories were intense, even deadly. Only in recent years had I eased my guard.

The School of Transcendence only admitted students with Psi-vision. That wasn’t some random bar. Psi-vision might be a lens for perceiving transcendence itself.

But mine seemed… extreme. My brother, Yang Yunhan, had a gentle Psi-vision. His inner world revealed truths gradually, like fleeting curiosities adding spice to life. Mine? Like staring down a Lovecraftian god—terrifying, overwhelming.

I pushed those memories aside. Thinking of him, of them, wasn’t pleasant.

Focus on now. If I were in this state, could I… meditate here? A dream within a meditation? A Russian doll of states?

The idea hit and wouldn’t let go. Why not try? Things couldn’t get worse.

I tried meditating again. The dream reshaped, looping like a dream within a dream—eerie, disorienting. Psi-vision lost its edge here. If this were a dream and I was self-aware, was this a lucid dream?

I couldn’t control this dream. It shifted with my subconscious—now the meditation room, now my empty villa, now Bai Yu’s house. I watched the environment fracture and reform, dreamscapes breaking and blending. I couldn’t steer or stop it, but it didn’t seem to affect me either.

This was a dream, sure, but I was awake in it—lucid, yet not waking up.

Trying to “meditate” again just spun more pointless dream-within-dream layers. I’d gained nothing.

Time here felt meaningless. Panic crept in—had I overstayed? Would I get kicked out?

I shattered the final dream, my consciousness snapping back to my body.

My eyes opened, eyelids creaking from being closed too long. This was real.

I was back… that easily?

Glancing over, faint smoke curled from the burner. The incense hadn’t burned out—Huanxin said it’d last about half an hour. So, less than that had passed?

“This is wild,” I muttered. Speaking felt real but odd, though I adjusted quickly. The gap between dream and reality was jarring.

With eyes open, I activated Psi-vision again. Walls blocked my view, tied to physical sight, but after that dream, I could “ignore” them. It looked weird, though.

The seniors’ meditation spaces still flickered, unchanged from before.

I stepped forward—and bumped into a wall. Embarrassed, I rubbed my nose, then touched the wall’s smooth, reflective surface. It clashed sharply with the rough texture and visuals from the dream.

So, the dream’s sensations were just my mind filling in blanks?

This was getting interesting.

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