Dream of the Forty-Sixth Celestial Moment

I am Zhuang Cheng.

More than four years have passed since I awakened my superpower, and I have recently re-evaluated my current level of capability.

To evaluate one's level, one must first establish a standard of measurement. The concept of "superpowers" is vast; if someone's superpower is "telepathy," it would not be appropriate to judge their level by "how sturdy a material they can destroy." However, my superpower happens to be exceptionally well-suited for destruction and combat, so I will use the strength of the enemies I can contend with as my hypothetical yardstick.

Suppose—a fully equipped, well-trained army from the cold weapon era appeared before me, determined to fight me to the death. I imagine that whether this army numbered one hundred thousand or one million, the ultimate victor would only be me. Even if the armies of the entire world were gathered together, I could not fathom any scenario in which I might suffer defeat. This is dictated by the very nature of my superpower; direct physical attacks stand no chance of inflicting fatal harm upon me.

What if it were a modern army centered around firearms? I still do not believe I would lose. Bullets, shells, missiles, as well as chemical and biological weapons—none of those things work on me. Even a nuclear bomb cannot kill me.

Of course, I have never actually been struck by a nuclear bomb, so I lack a bit of confidence when insisting on this conclusion. Perhaps, as some science fiction stories suggest, the human soul is essentially an electromagnetic field, and the explosion of a nuclear bomb could disrupt that electromagnetic field, thereby destroying the soul as well.

Moreover, the ingenuity of scientists should not be underestimated. In monster movies, there are occasionally plots where a seemingly flawless ultimate lifeform has its fatal flaw discovered by human scientists. Sometimes I cannot help but project myself into the monster's position, thinking that if I truly believed my superpower was invincible under heaven, I might well encounter Waterloo in unexpected circumstances.

As for what it would be like to make an enemy of superpowered individuals other than myself, that is truly difficult to judge. As I mentioned earlier, the types of superpowers are simply too numerous. What if an enemy could directly attack my soul? How on earth could I defend against that?

I am not a maniac obsessed solely with violence, but in the realm of "extra-reality adventures," conflicts with others—and even with those of one's own kind—must be anticipated in advance, a trope that has appeared in many fantastic stories.

I suppose that if a superpowered individual skilled in telepathy truly existed and could constantly read my inner thoughts, they might raise a question: why does this person always bring up "fantastic stories"?

Or rather, how do I actually define an "extra-reality adventure"?

I often clearly distinguish in my heart between the "pursuit of the supernatural" and the "pursuit of extra-reality adventures," because in my mind, "extra reality" does not necessarily require the "supernatural."

Everyone's reality is different. The ancients of several millennia ago would have considered modern airplanes to be extra-reality; fools with no understanding of science might consider quantum mechanics phenomena to be extra-reality; people living in peaceful nations might feel that the chaos of war-torn countries diverges from the reality they experience. Yet, the "extra-reality adventure" in my eyes is an unpredictable, unfathomable adventure that transcends my own experiences and ordinary life.

That is why, not long ago, when Mazao simply collapsed before me covered in blood and clutching a real gun—even though she had not yet displayed any supernatural signs at the time—I could not resist taking her home with me.

Yes, extra-reality adventures do not exclusively exist in fantastic stories; they surely exist in the real world as well. War correspondents taking risks to gather news in war-torn countries, explorers shuttling between high mountains and dense jungles, mercenaries living on the edge with their lives hanging by a thread, and even criminals who destabilize society... Even without superpowers or bizarre anomalies, the real world is still filled with people experiencing absurd adventures.

Even on the battlefields of politics and commerce, there are legends passed down generation after generation. Just because the reality I face is monotonous and dull does not mean that the reality faced by everyone else in this world is the same.

I actually figured out this truth when I was fourteen years old, and yet...

I had a dream.

It was a dream I had shortly before awakening my superpower. Among all the dreams I have had from childhood to the present, this one was not particularly special. I dreamed I was standing in a long corridor, surrounded above, below, left, and right by gray concrete.

It looked just like the hallway of an abandoned building, devoid even of light bulbs, yet like a character in a horror game, I could inexplicably see the scenery in my immediate vicinity. It was limited only to the immediate surroundings; any further was impossible, and both the front and back of the corridor were as dark as the jaws of an abyss.

A vague premonition welled up in my heart, and I walked forward. Before long, I found an iron door beside the corridor. Opening it, I revealed an empty room. In the center of the room was a wooden desk and chair, with the chair facing the door, and a person sitting upon it.

Perhaps because this was a dream, I could not describe the other person's specific appearance or attire, knowing only that it was a man. Upon seeing him, my premonition grew even stronger. This bizarre figure could grant my wish.

——Do you desire power?

The bizarre figure asked me this.

——Power?

I asked in return.

——Yes, power.

——The power of your dreams, the power of fantasy, power worthy of the extra-reality adventure in your heart.

The bizarre figure tempted me like a demon.

I hoped I could steadfastly refuse him. For I had long since realized that extra-reality adventures do not need to be pursued in dreams.

The real world has its own splendor; I only needed to cast aside fantasy, recognize reality, and strive to head toward that place.

However, the me of that time must not have been strong enough...

More than four years later, I had this dream again, returning to that dark and dilapidated corridor.

I could recognize that this was a dream I had experienced before, and could even clearly recall every detail of my previous conversation with the bizarre figure. This time, without any miraculous premonition to guide me, I walked down the corridor relying on my memory, quickly found the iron door of the past, and pushed it open.

The room contained only the wooden desk and chair from back then, but the bizarre figure was no longer there.

I entered the room, casually pulled the iron door shut behind me, and sat down at the wooden desk and chair, observing my surroundings with nothing to do.

A moment later, footsteps echoed from outside the door, coming closer from afar.

Someone opened the door and walked in.

It was a boy of about fourteen years of age, bearing a face both familiar and unfamiliar to me, with a vigilant gaze and tense posture, exuding an aura that rejected others.

He was me, another me, the me who had still not grown up.

His gaze focused on me, as if silently urging me to quickly state my name.

Instead of introducing myself, I recalled the conversation I had with the bizarre figure back then, and tossed out the question.

——"Do you desire power?"

——"Power?" he asked in return.

——"Yes, power..." I consciously adopted a seductive tone. "The power of your dreams, the power of fantasy, power worthy of the extra-reality adventure in your heart..."

Hearing this, he fell silent, seemingly plunged into an inner struggle.

I stopped speaking, silently awaiting his answer, hoping he would give a different response than the last time.

However, this time, I did not wait for his answer.

Inside this enclosed room, gray mist inexplicably began to well up.

The mist quickly grew so dense that it obscured the scenery, making it impossible to see that familiar yet unfamiliar boy, or even my own body.

My field of vision gradually faded into darkness amidst the layers of rolling mist.

Until I opened my eyes and awoke from the dream.

-

One day had passed since the death of the genuine fallen demon hunter, Agent Kong.

During the latter part of my fight with Agent Kong, though I didn't know why he suddenly broke down and shouted something like "Impossible, I refuse to accept this," he finally unleashed some rather ingenious moves out of nowhere. On a whim, I couldn't resist using a relatively powerful attack to strike back.

To call it a "move" is a stretch; in truth, I don't pay much attention to any special techniques when wielding my power. It was nothing more than gathering a large amount of flame together and blasting it straight out. The consequence was that I accidentally cleaved the unfinished building in half, and the expanding shockwave seemed to shatter the windows of nearby buildings as well.

Such a massive commotion naturally attracted Zhu Shi, who was still dealing with the situation on the fifteenth floor in the distance.

I had no choice but to break the news of Agent Kong's death to her and gather most of the body parts scattered by the explosion. Fortunately, my flames still retained a lingering warmth on them, so searching for the pieces wasn't too arduous. Actually, this shouldn't have been caused by my attack; I had deliberately held back against him at the time. Who could have foreseen that after being blown backward, he would spontaneously detonate in mid-air, leaving everyone completely baffled from start to finish.

An explosion is one thing, but his remains actually reverted to a human form, making it look as though an out-of-control me had brutally murdered an innocent Agent Kong. At first, I had no idea how to explain this to Zhu Shi and could only tell the truth.

Luckily, Zhu Shi did not suspect me. She carefully observed the fragmented remains of Agent Kong, and that intensely focused gaze reminded me of the time she deduced that my superpower did not stem from the bloodline of demons and monsters. After quite a while, she seemed to reach a conclusion and acknowledged that Agent Kong was indeed a fallen demon hunter. Only then did I let out a sigh of relief.

Yet, regarding the rest of my explanation, she displayed a shock so profound she could hardly digest it.

"So... you split this building apart with your bare hands. You can even transform your body into fire, and you won't die even if your head gets chopped off. Even when Agent Kong ambushed you from behind, you were completely unharmed..."

"That is correct," I nodded. "Can I join Luoshan now?"