Chapter Thirty-Three: Where Did You Just Go?

In the dimly lit cave, only a few luminous pearls provided illumination.

Qin Xiaomo opened her eyes, glanced around, and then looked at the old man before her. Yes, she thought, she was back again.

The old sage gave her a strange look and asked, “Young lady, has anyone ever sealed your memories in the past?”

“Uh… I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.” Qin Xiaomo was still not quite used to the abrupt sensation of returning. She tried hard to recall and finally remembered that this old sage had been helping her clear her meridians earlier, which now seemed to be done.

There was something she wanted to ask, yet for the moment she couldn't find the words. The old sage spoke first, “Have you experienced anything unusual recently?”

“What do you mean by ‘unusual’?”

“Something like a soul leaving the body,” the old sage said, stroking his beard.

Should she mention her experience of traversing time and space? Would he even understand? Yet, not mentioning it seemed pointless, for he appeared to see through her already. It was truly a dilemma.

“It’s not that I don’t want to say it—I’m just afraid you won’t understand, because it’s something that defies all concepts.” Qin Xiaomo spoke frankly, troubled.

“You’re afraid this old man won’t grasp it?”

Qin Xiaomo didn’t know how to answer, so she just nodded.

“Why not share? I am curious about novel things, especially after spending so long in this place—I’ve become all the more interested in the world outside. If there’s anything you’d rather not discuss, I won’t pry. Does that sound fair?”

“In that case, I’ll try to explain as simply as possible.” Qin Xiaomo, full of doubts herself, saw no harm in exploring them together.

With a wave of his hand, the old sage conjured a round jade table and two jade stools, upon which sat a teapot, two cups, and a plate of unfamiliar fruit. The fruit was entirely red, shaped like a bitter gourd, with a slightly translucent skin and a refreshing, sweet fragrance—a scent somewhere between pineapple and watermelon. It seemed the old sage was preparing to hear a tale. Within a two-meter radius around the stone table, the cave was as bright as day. Their feet stood amid a mist that just covered the tops of their shoes—thick, yet not overwhelming. The light seemed to come from nowhere.

The abrupt brightness made Qin Xiaomo’s eyes struggle to adjust. After a long moment, she managed to see her surroundings more clearly. The illuminated cave wall was studded with gems of various sizes—some as large as park stone benches, others no bigger than grains of corn. Under the light, these gems glittered like diamonds.

“Please, young lady.”

Qin Xiaomo thought for a long while, then took a large sip of tea, wiped her mouth, and said, “You’re right, Elder Immortal—I have indeed experienced something unusual recently. I wonder if you have ever heard of ‘transmigration’?”

“That term—there was a fellow named Wang something who mentioned it to me before. It was when he first arrived at West Bridge Lake. I was fishing, and he asked me for directions. He didn’t know how he’d come here—said he was originally a civil servant. After a few questions, he concluded he had transmigrated.” The old sage’s eyes were fixed on a gem, as if recalling the scene.

“And then?” Qin Xiaomo asked, curious.

“He said he wanted to leave, so I pointed him to a way back.”

“There’s a way back?” Qin Xiaomo’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“There is, but the place keeps shifting. One second, it’s in the forest; the next, in a desert. It appears only for the briefest of moments, so it’s hard to find.”

“Are there any clues to its recent whereabouts?”

“You want to leave, too?” The old sage glanced into the darkness of the cave, as if speaking to someone hidden.

“Of course. This isn’t the world where I belong.”

“That place is called Shadow Valley. It appears and disappears like a phantom—impossible to seek, only possible to encounter by chance. If fate allows, you’ll find it. But let me warn you: the place that leads you across is a tree a kilometer in diameter, with a maze at its center. Each path ends in a different illusionary mirror, each leading to a different place. Choose wrong, and you might be trapped there for a lifetime.” The old sage spoke earnestly.

“Old Zhenwu is spouting nonsense before the Young Madam,” Jiang Wei whispered, standing beside Qian Mubai, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

“That old fellow wouldn’t miss a chance to toy with me,” Qian Mubai said lazily.

The old sage pursed his lips, barely suppressing a smile.

“Elder Immortal, did you just hear someone speaking in the cave?” Qin Xiaomo’s ears buzzed, the words unclear.

“No, you must have imagined it. Few can reach this cave—this time, I only allowed it because…” Suddenly, a transmission from Qian Mubai interrupted him: “Old man, if you say another word, you’ll never get that fine wine I promised from Flower Valley City.”

“Because of what?” Qin Xiaomo detested it when people left their sentences hanging.

The old sage laughed heartily, as if muttering to himself, “Ah, what’s a beautiful scene without fine wine?” He paused, then continued, “By the way, young lady, you haven’t told me your origin yet.”

“I transmigrated, too, but my case is rather peculiar.” Qin Xiaomo’s hands clasped together, an inexplicable tension rising within her.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I’ve had the same dream since childhood—people and events I’d never encountered in real life. The dream came so often that I began to keep a record. When I grew up and became a game developer, I used all those characters and scenes from my dreams in my game—even the settings matched my dreams.” Qin Xiaomo fell into reverie.

“So, you think you’ve transmigrated… into a game?” the old sage finished for her.

“Yes, exactly. But there are many things here that don’t make sense. For example, this black cave—we never designed it in our game. And some of the NPC dialogues don’t match the scripts we wrote, which is confusing.”

“Have you ever wondered why you kept having the same dream since childhood? Could it be that the world in your dreams is your true home, and what you think of as reality is only a dream? Perhaps you’re simply using games and dreams to project the real world from within your dream.” The old sage’s words left Qin Xiaomo stunned.

What kind of logic was this? Could it be that the modern, technologically advanced era she’d always lived in was just a dream? That world had her parents, her beloved Jidou, friends and classmates, and new acquaintances like Liu Banshen and Qingfeng—how could it be?

Seeing Qin Xiaomo’s dazed expression, the old sage smiled and said, “It doesn’t matter. Why must one live with such clarity? As long as you believe it’s real, then it is real. What else matters?”

“How can it be the same? If the world I always believed in turned out to be a dream—a lie—I think I’d go mad.”

“There’s another possibility: parallel worlds. Think about Shadow Valley—isn’t it just like that? So many illusionary mirrors—you can’t say any of them are false. Each space exists simultaneously, developing according to its own rules. What you call a dream may simply be your way of moving from one world to another.” The old sage added.

“I’ve heard of parallel worlds,” Qin Xiaomo nodded, preferring to believe she was in one.

“Speaking of which, do you now feel your whole body is clear, a warmth constantly flowing from your core throughout your body, rarely tired, and your steps light, your hearing and sight sharper than ever before?”

“Yes, Elder Immortal—are my meridians clear now?”

“Indeed. By my estimation, you’ve reached the late stage of the fourth tier of the Earthly level. You’re only a step away from a breakthrough.” The old sage paused, then declared loudly, “Such a result deserves several jars of fine wine!”

In the darkness, Qian Mubai curled his lips into a smile. “Greedy old man.”