139: Chapter 138 A Beautiful Dream? A Nightmare! The Golden Tower Soul Roared Away Me

The cave was very deep.

Lin Feng followed those footprints, walking inward step by step.

The light orb from the Illumination Spell floated above his head, lighting up a range of five or six meters ahead.

The light orb was golden, shining on the gray rock walls and clearly illuminating the water marks and cracks.

There were traces of flowing water on the rock walls, line after line, like dried tear stains.

On the ground were crushed stones, sand, and those footprints.

The footprints were very deep and firmly planted, as if someone had left them intentionally.

Lin Feng crouched down and measured the length of a footprint with his fingers—it was a circle larger than his own foot, likely a man's footprint.

He then looked at the depth of the footprint—it was much deeper than his own, indicating that this person was much heavier than him or was carrying something very heavy.

He stood up and continued forward.

The cave grew narrower, shrinking from its initial width of over ten meters to seven or eight meters, and then to four or five meters.

The rock walls on both sides also drew closer, and the ceiling became lower.

The light orb from the Illumination Spell floated above his head, almost touching the cave roof.

The air grew increasingly damp, carrying a musty smell and some indescribable, ancient aura.

That aura was like an Ancient Tomb sealed for many years, like ruins untouched by man, like a shipwreck submerged at the bottom of the sea for a thousand years.

He took a breath and felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict, as if something was blocking it.

After walking for about ten more minutes, the cave suddenly widened.

From four or five meters wide, it suddenly expanded to dozens of meters wide, like a massive hall.

The light orb from the Illumination Spell floated upward, its light barely illuminating the cave roof.

The cave roof was very high, at least twenty meters, with stalactites hanging upside down like suspended swords.

Stalagmites also grew from the ground, varying in height and uneven, like a forest of stone.

Those footprints crossed through the stalagmite forest and disappeared into the depths of the darkness.

Lin Feng followed the footprints, weaving through the stalagmite forest.

The stalagmites were very tall, some even taller than him, blocking the way like gray walls.

He bypassed them and continued walking.

After walking for about five minutes, the stalagmites ahead suddenly thinned out.

A clearing appeared, quite large, at least the size of a basketball court.

In the center of the clearing stood a stone table and two stone chairs.

Something was placed on the stone table.

Lin Feng approached, and the light orb from the Illumination Spell followed.

It was a scroll, made of some unknown material, emitting a faint silver light.

The scroll was unfurled, covered in writing.

Those characters were ancient Seal Script, with complex strokes that curved and twisted like little snakes.

Lin Feng stared at those characters for a long time but couldn't recognize a single one.

He reached out, wanting to touch the scroll.

Just as his fingers were about to touch the scroll, it suddenly lit up.

A silver radiance surged from the scroll like water, flowing down the stone table and onto the ground, rushing toward him.

He wanted to retreat, but his feet were as if nailed to the ground, unable to move.

The silver light submerged his feet, his legs, his waist, and his chest.

He felt his body become very light, like a feather, like a cloud, like a wisp of smoke.

Then, he saw it.

He saw himself.

No, not his current self.

It was his future self.

He stood atop a high mountain, a mountain so high that the clouds were beneath his feet.

He wore a suit of golden battle armor covered in runes that shimmered in the sunlight.

In his hand, he gripped a sword—long and wide, with a dragon carved onto the blade.

That dragon was alive, swimming along the blade, opening its mouth to spit fire.

Below the mountain were countless monsters.

They were densely packed, covering the earth and sky like ants, like locusts, like a black tide.

Those monsters were crawling, running, and flying, surging toward him.

He raised his sword and slashed down.

A golden radiance shot from the sword, as thick as a river.

That radiance split the earth, split the sky, and split those monsters.

The monsters were torn apart like scraps of paper, blown away like dust.

With one strike, he killed tens of thousands of monsters.

The monsters below the mountain still surged forward; he struck again, killing tens of thousands more.

He stood there like a god, invincible.

The scene shifted.

He stood inside a palace.

The palace was vast and magnificent, with white jade floors and dragons and phoenixes carved into the pillars.

He sat upon a golden throne, which was high and massive, like a small mountain.

Below the throne, countless people knelt.

There were white people, black people, and yellow people, all dressed in luxurious clothing, heads bowed, not daring to look at him.

They called him "Your Majesty," "Master," and "God."

He waved his hand, and those people withdrew.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window was an entire city.

Skyscrapers, heavy traffic, and people coming and going.

Those people were busy, laughing, and living their lives.

And all of this was given by him.

He was the King of this city, the King of this country, the King of this world.

The scene shifted once more.

He stood in the Void Realm.

Stars were beneath his feet, stars were above his head, and stars were all around him.

He wore a white robe embroidered with a galaxy; the galaxy flowed, and the stars twinkled.

In his hand, he held a scepter, its tip inlaid with a planet.

That planet was slowly rotating, with oceans, continents, and clouds upon it.

That was Earth.

He raised the scepter, and Earth lit up.

He lowered the scepter, and Earth went dark.

He stood there like a creator god.

He was omnipotent.

"This is what you want."

A voice rang in his ear.

That voice was very light and soft, like a mother's murmur, like a lover's whisper.

"As long as you are willing, all of this can be yours. Power, authority, status—whatever you want, you shall have."

Lin Feng looked at those images, and his heart rate quickened.

Was that what he wanted?

Power, authority, status; standing at the peak of the world, above all races, in the center of the Universe.

Was that what he wanted?

He remembered the day of the Awakening ceremony, when everyone was mocking him.

He remembered those contemptuous looks in the Explorer's Hall.

He remembered Wang Hao's ridicule, Zhou Tianhao's assassination attempt, Shen Yutang's sneak attack, and Zhou Tiannan's fist.

He remembered those who looked down on him, those who wanted to kill him, and those who wanted to climb over him to get ahead.

If they saw him now, what would their expressions be?

If they knew he had become a god, a king, the Dominator of the Universe, what would their expressions be?

He smiled.

That smile was not his usual one; it was a kind of smile he had never seen before.

It was a smile of desire, a smile of satisfaction, a smile of triumph.

"Yes, just like that."

The voice rang out again, closer and softer.

"You deserve to have these. You've suffered so much, endured so much pain, and fought so many battles. You've beaten everyone. You've earned this. These were yours to begin with. As long as you are willing."

Lin Feng reached out to grab those images.

He wanted to seize that sword, the sword with the dragon carved on it.

He wanted to don that golden battle armor.

He wanted to sit upon that golden throne.

He wanted to become that omnipotent person.

His hand was about to touch the image.

Right then, deep within his Sea of Consciousness, that small golden tower suddenly jolted.

A beam of golden light shot from the tower's tip, striking directly at his consciousness.

That golden light wasn't blinding, but it was very hot.

Like a red-hot needle, it stabbed into his mind.

"Wake up!"

A voice exploded in his head.

It wasn't a mother's murmur or a lover's whisper.

It was a great bell, a giant drum, a clap of thunder.

It was the voice of the golden tower soul.

Lin Feng's whole body jolted.

He snapped his eyes open.

Before him, there were no high mountains, no palaces, no stars.

Before him were gray rock walls, a black cave, and those stalagmites and stalactites.

He stood in front of the stone table, his hand reaching out, nearly touching the scroll.

The scroll was still spread on the stone table, those Seal Script characters still glowing, the silver light flowing slowly.

But those characters weren't ancient script; they were—Restriction Runes.

They were densely packed, covering the entire scroll.

Lin Feng pulled his hand back.

He took a step back, then another, and another.

His back hit a stalagmite, and the icy sensation made him completely clear-headed.

"Huff... huff..."

He gasped for air, cold sweat from his forehead streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto his collar and the ground.

His legs were trembling, and his hands were shaking too.

He looked down at his hands—the injuries on his knuckles hadn't fully healed, having formed dark brown scabs.

Those weren't the hands of a god; those were the hands of a Mortal.

He looked up at the scroll.

The scroll was still glowing, the silver light flowing slowly like a snake, enticing its prey to approach.

He stared at those Restriction Runes, unable to recognize a single character.

But he knew what those runes were doing—they were amplifying the desires in his heart.

Those images weren't given to him by the scroll.

They were his own.

It was his desire, his ambition, those things hidden in the deepest depths of his heart.

The scroll had simply dug them out, amplified them, and amplified them again, letting him see them, making him believe them, and making him reach out for them.

If he had touched that scroll, what would have happened?

He didn't know.

But he knew it wouldn't be anything good.

Perhaps it would have sucked him dry, perhaps it would have trapped him here, or perhaps it would have let his consciousness be forever immersed in those beautiful dreams, never to wake again.

He shuddered and backed away a few more steps.

He looked around.

Those stalagmites, those stalactites, those gray rock walls, and the black cave were all the same as before.

But something was different.

The floral scent was gone.

The richness of the roses, the elegance of the jasmine, the etherealness of the orchids, and the cloying sweetness of the osmanthus—all were gone.

There was only a musty smell in the air—a damp, ancient, chest-tightening musty smell.

The fresh scent of the grass was also gone.

Beneath his feet were only crushed stones and sand, crunching as he stepped on them.

The sunlight was gone too.

Above his head was the pitch-black rock ceiling; the light orb from the Illumination Spell floated up there, its golden light casting shadows of the stalactites onto the ground like a pack of baring-clawed monsters.

Singing birds and fragrant flowers?

A fairyland?

It was all fake.

From the moment he stepped into this Secret Realm, he had been deceived.

Those meadows, those flowers, those trees, those waterfalls, and the lake—all were fake.

It was an illusion.

It was an illusion presented to him by this Secret Realm.

To make him lower his guard, to make him lose his way, to lead him here to this scroll, and to make him reach for things he could never obtain.

If not for that jolt from the golden tower soul, he would be finished by now.

He touched his chest where the golden tower soul quietly hovered deep in his Sea of Consciousness, the runes on the tower body still faintly glowing.

He closed his eyes and said thank you in his heart.

The tower soul didn't respond, merely continuing its rotation, emitting a warm golden light.

Lin Feng took a deep breath; the air was cold, carrying a musty and earthy smell.

This was reality.

He looked at the scroll again; it was still glowing, the silver light flowing slowly.

He stared at those Restriction Runes, a surge of anger rising in his heart.

He raised his right hand, golden light gathering in his palm.

He wanted to smash this scroll to pieces with one punch.

Halfway through raising his hand, he stopped.

He couldn't be impulsive.

Who knew if this scroll was part of the trap?

Who knew what would happen if he smashed it?

Perhaps it would cause the entire cave to collapse, perhaps it would trigger an even more powerful Restriction, or perhaps it would trap him here forever.

He lowered his hand and suppressed his anger.

He turned around and walked toward the cave exit.

His pace was fast, almost a jog.

The stalagmites flashed past him like rows of gray soldiers.

The stalactites overhead swayed as if they were about to fall.

The light orb from the Illumination Spell followed him, its golden light casting his swaying shadow on the ground.

After walking for about ten minutes, he finally saw the light of the cave entrance.

It wasn't golden; it was white, the color of real sunlight.

He quickened his pace and rushed out of the cave.

The sunlight hit his face, making him squint.

He stood at the cave entrance, breathing deeply of the outside air.

The air was very cold and dry, carrying the scent of crushed stone and sand.

There was no floral scent, no grass scent, only the real, coarse smell of the wilderness.

He stood there for a good while before he recovered.

He turned around and looked at the cave.

The cave entrance was pitch black, like a gaping mouth.

He watched for a few seconds before turning to leave.

He walked down along the cliff wall, finding the path he had come by, hugging the wall as he descended step by step.

The gravel beneath his feet was sliding; he steadied himself and continued walking.

After walking for about twenty minutes, he finally reached the foot of the mountain.

He stood by the lake, looking at the water.

The lake water was still dark green, very deep, with the bottom out of sight.

The snow-capped mountains and the sky were reflected on the lake's surface.

He stared at those reflections for a long time.

Were those reflections real? Or were they an illusion?

He didn't know.

He crouched down and reached out to touch the lake water.

The moment his fingertips touched the water's surface, it was bone-chillingly cold.

It was real.

He withdrew his hand and stood up.

He looked around again.

Snowy mountains, waterfalls, lake water, crushed stones, and sand.

Were these real? Or were they an illusion?

He closed his eyes and sensed everything around him.

The wind blowing down from the mountain peak was bone-chillingly cold; it was real.

The gravel beneath his feet pressed against his soles; it was real.

The sound of the waterfall was deafening; it was real.

These were all real.

At least, his senses told him they were real.

He opened his eyes and pulled out the Positioning Talisman.

On the back of the card, there was still only one red dot.

There was still no news from Zhao Gang and Su Xue.

He pulled out the Communicator again and pressed the button.

The disc lit up, and a static hiss came from within.

"Zhao Gang? Su Xue?" he called out twice.

No one answered.

Only the static hiss continued unabated.

He put the items away and took a deep breath.

He had to leave this place.

It was too quiet here, a silence that bred unease.

Those illusions, that scroll, and those Restriction Runes all indicated that this Secret Realm was not simple.

He needed to find Zhao Gang and Su Xue, find the exit, and find the true secret of this Secret Realm.

He chose a direction—walking down the mountain.

There were woods, meadows, and that fairyland he had seen when he first entered.

But now he knew those were fake.

The true path lay in another direction.

He turned around and walked in the direction opposite the snowy mountain.

It was a desert, dusty and gray, with nothing at all.

But he could feel that in that direction, something was waiting for him.

He set off toward that desert.

The gravel beneath his feet crunched, and the wind blew from behind, lifting his hair.

He did not look back.