Chapter 111: The Power of Family Bonds

Su Xiaoyu’s pupils constricted. She and her grandfather had been gripping that pencil together, and as it shifted, it finally came to a stop right in front of her. A chill enveloped her entire body; she felt as if death would lock onto her in the next second. As a Dream Weaver, Su Xiaoyu knew very well that to die in a dream disaster was to die for real. She would have no chance to start over.

Opposite her, Elder Su’s eyes also narrowed. He watched as the white candle in front of Su Xiaoyu flickered and went out. Su Xiaoyu’s face seemed to be swallowed by darkness, gradually disappearing from his sight. The old man’s eyes turned bloodshot instantly.

"Xiaoyu!"

"Let go of my granddaughter! If you want something, come for me!"

It was as if Elder Su’s potential had been unleashed in that moment. Just like a mother who can summon incredible strength to lift a heavy car when her child is trapped beneath it, Elder Su erupted with similar power. He saw a pair of pale hands slowly emerging from the darkness behind the obscured Su Xiaoyu, covering her cheeks. The ten fingers, sharp as blades, seemed ready to pierce into her skin.

Elder Su let out a roar. His body was battered and bloody, but he overturned the chair and smashed through the table. Defying the overwhelming, terrifying pressure, he lunged forward, throwing himself toward Su Xiaoyu.

The darkness receded. Elder Su used his hunched frame to shield the trembling, terrified girl, his eyes burning with ferocity—like an angry hen protecting her chick. Perhaps this was the power of kinship.

The entity in the darkness paused for a moment, then seemed to become agitated. With a soft *puff*, the candle at Elder Su’s position also went out. Darkness descended once more. But before it could fully engulf the grandfather and granddaughter, it halted abruptly. The murderous darkness slowly ebbed away.

...

Fresh blood flowed across the floor. Fair, bare feet stepped into the gore, leaving a trail of scarlet footprints.

"La la la la~ Brother-in-law won't die today~"

The sister-in-law giggled maniacally, clutching the blood-dripping pencil. A chilling smile hung on her face as she swayed, as if dancing. Her white dress was stained with blood, making her look strangely pathetic and pitiable.

Du Fang watched as she walked back step by step. Faint, fragmented images flickered in his mind: a frail girl in that vision, dragging her scarred body through an endless sea of corpses, walking out one step at a time.

Du Fang snapped back to reality. The sister-in-law had already reached his side. Her face, hidden beneath dark hair, held a hint of a smile and a trace of reliance. She had pulled her hair up, pinning it with the pencil as a hairpin. She tilted her pretty face, staring at Du Fang—a gaze that made him feel quite uneasy.

Nearby, Su Jiuming felt the sinister, baleful power behind him fade, replaced by a wave of relentless, aching soreness. The feeling of walking through the gates of hell time and again was truly unpleasant.

*Sister-in-law... Du Fang's sister-in-law? What in the world is this?*

Su Jiuming looked on with lingering fear as the girl, whose form was becoming impossible to distinguish clearly in reality, began to vanish. Yet, the corpses littering the ground were real. Su Jiuming was certain that the girl he had just seen... had truly existed.

He looked at Du Fang and found him looking toward his side with a helpless expression, seemingly conversing with someone. *Is this Du Fang’s secret?* A slight smile tugged at the corner of Su Jiuming’s mouth. His intuition had been right all along. He had felt that Du Fang was the same kind of person as him, and now, it seemed he was correct.

Everyone here was hiding a great secret.

"Brother Su, this is my family. You don't need to be afraid," Du Fang said with a smile, trying to comfort the visibly shaken Su Jiuming.

Su Jiuming climbed to his feet, smoothed the wrinkles on his flashy green suit, and returned the smile. "Don't worry, I'm not afraid. I understand your feelings..." Su Jiuming’s eyes were deep and profound. "You and I are the same kind of people," he added.

Du Fang paused for a moment.

Soon, however, the silence between them was broken by groans of agony—the wails of Zhang Changlin. Zhang Changlin had been brutally beaten during the dream disaster and even stabbed in the kidney, which brought tears to his eyes. *Fighting is one thing... but how could they aim for the kidney?* He thought. *Heads can be broken, blood can be shed, but the kidneys are off-limits!* Modern anomalies really had no sense of martial honor!

Zhang Changlin felt that life was getting harder and harder. Being beaten was one thing, but now he’d been stabbed in the kidney. What was even worse was when he opened his eyes and realized his physical body in reality had also been beaten. He stood up, clutching his side as blood gushed out—the dream disaster had bled into reality!

Tears streamed down Zhang Changlin’s dark face. *This is bullying!*

However, he soon froze. He saw the corpses covering the floor... The thick, pungent smell of blood filled the air, stinging his nose. Zhang Changlin’s expression changed abruptly. He saw that the corpses were wearing the windbreakers of Dream Weavers, but they were not the uniforms of domestic Dream Weavers.

"Foreign Dream Weavers?"

"They look like mercenary Dream Weavers from the Federation?"

Zhang Changlin was well-traveled and recognized the identities of the dead at a glance. He looked at the ragged Su Jiuming, then at Du Fang, who stood there unscathed, his appearance as flawless and eye-catching as ever.

"What’s going on?" Zhang Changlin asked, clutching his side.

Su Jiuming walked over to Robin, who lay dead with his eyes wide open, full of lingering resentment. "It seems these were hired Dream Weavers who intended to kill our physical bodies in reality while we were pulled into the dream disaster."

"They possess the ability to be immune to the effects of dream disasters; they must be veterans. This isn't their first time," Su Jiuming said.

"They targeted you first, but you were saved by your forbidden artifact."

Zhang Changlin’s face turned even darker. "Damn it! You were right next to me, why did they go for me first?"

Su Jiuming rolled his eyes. "Be glad you’re alive. I wasted a life; it’s going to take a long time to recover."

"Captain Zhang, Brother Su, go to the dining room and check on the others," Du Fang said suddenly. "The dream disaster has been broken, so they should be waking up soon. See if there are any casualties."

Zhang Changlin and Su Jiuming were stunned.

"What about you?" Zhang Changlin asked, still holding his side.

Du Fang turned to look at the sister-in-law standing quietly by his side. She extended a pale, slender arm and pointed into the distance.

"Brother-in-law, there is one more... heading toward the forbidden artifact that carries Su's will."

"Brother-in-law, Su is so scared," she said earnestly, even though there wasn't a trace of fear in her voice.

After calming her, Du Fang headed in that direction. Zhang Changlin and Su Jiuming exchanged glances.

"Old Su, you go take care of the others. I’ll go follow him and see," Zhang Changlin said, still uneasy. Of course, he wasn't worried about Du Fang, but rather worried about Du Fang unleashing his full power and causing a catastrophe.

Su Jiuming moved his lips but said nothing. He turned and entered the dining room.

Inside, the sleeping guests were gradually waking up as the dream disaster dissipated. Some servants and maids had died, their faces torn apart. Chen Xi, Si Nan, Zhao Lu, and the others opened their eyes, still shaken.

Su Xiaoyu woke up with a jolt and screamed as she looked at Elder Su beside her. The old man was covered in blood—the aftereffect of resisting that overwhelming pressure.

"Grandpa!" Su Xiaoyu shrieked, her tears finally breaking free. Her heart trembled with fear. The image of her grandfather risking everything to protect her during the dream disaster hit her like a heavy hammer. So, Grandpa had loved her all along. The arguments, the falling outs, everything she hadn't understood before—now, it all made sense. Grandpa just wanted her to be safe. And while she chose to head to the front lines of the Dream Weavers, he had been living in constant anxiety within the manor.

Su Xiaoyu wept uncontrollably, her face a mess of tears as she looked at the bloodied Elder Su. Chen Xi rushed over, touching the old man’s forehead to release her dream spirit and stabilize his condition. Soon after, the medical staff woke up and began treatment. Fortunately, the old man had just lost a bit too much blood; his life was not in danger.

...

Kamon’s running form suddenly halted. He could feel it—the light shields he had placed on his teammates to block the dream disaster had all shattered!

"Damn it! What’s going on? What is Robin doing?"

"If the light shields break, they’ll be infected by the dream disaster. They’ll likely be killed by it!"

Kamon cursed, furious. Everything had been going according to plan, and then, suddenly, everything changed. He couldn't go back to the dining room now; there wasn't enough time, and his teammates were likely all dead by now.

Kamon sensed that the dream disaster was being dismantled; the dream spirit energy was receding like a tide. If he didn't act now, this rare opportunity would slip away. Gritting his teeth, he ignored everything else. His military knife slid into his hand, and he viciously slashed at the necks of two security Dream Weavers who had fallen at the door. Two sprays of blood hit the wall, as if venting his internal rage.

The door was slightly ajar. With a fierce expression, Kamon charged inside. This was Elder Su’s collection room. In the center of the room sat a rosewood box. It was open, and inside lay a tattered, blood-stained pencil. Next to the box, a figure lay collapsed—the person Su Hao had planted to trigger the dream disaster—now a desiccated husk with all his blood drained away.

This pencil... was the root of the dream disaster. And it was Kamon’s target.

"Found it!" Kamon’s bearded face twitched with excitement. His dream spirit surged, forming a thick, glowing glove over his hand as he reached for the blood-dripping pencil.

However, before his hand could touch it, the pencil in the rosewood box seemed to respond to an inexplicable tug. It shot out with joyous energy, grazing Kamon’s fingertips and flying out of the room.

It was caught, with effortless grace, by a fair, slender hand.