Dreaming to Become a Creator-Chapter 0087 – Returning to Liuhe City

Chapter 87: Returning to Liuhe City
Murong Tian stared at the stranger’s casual disregard. Veins throbbed on his hands as killing intent surged within him. He yearned to slice this arrogant intruder into eight pieces for the dogs. But the instant this thought arose, a far deadlier sensation gripped his heart.
Danger.
Extremely dangerous.
The nameless youth radiated pressure unlike anything Murong Tian had experienced—not even when kneeling before Human Respect, ruler of the southwest. This stranger might surpass even the Three Great Lords themselves.
_A being beyond three days’ might?_
He must be hallucinating.
Yet the eerie danger strangling his instincts forced Murong Tian’s killing intent to wither. He stayed silent.
“Like the Three Kingdoms,” Zuo Meng mused, studying the map. “Heavenly Lord holds the north. Human Respect claims the southwest. Earthly Lord dominates East Wu.”
This real world differed starkly from clan records. Truths here felt raw, like stepping from sheltered classrooms into society’s grit.
Three Kingdoms?
Murong Tian didn’t understand the strange words the man muttered.
Zuo Meng next examined records of clan territories. Leveraging the Murong family’s archives, he soon found his answers.
Silence choked the study.
After two hours, Zuo Meng shelved the final volume.
“Sir—”
Murong Tian stepped forward as Zuo Meng replaced the book—and froze. The floor tiles beneath him had vanished. Black void surrounded his lone standing stone. Across the chasm, Zuo Meng’s chair floated like an island in another realm.
“When?!”
Terror twisted Murong Tian’s face. No martial arts world technique explained this.
“A technique to trap someone within a drawn boundary.” Zuo Meng’s voice echoed. “Call it celestial art.”
With A Thousand Years of Inner Strength and Distortion bending reality, he’d become this world’s walking deity.
“Celestial… art?!”
Murong Tian’s earlier suspicions crystallized. Thank fate he’d held back—this being could erase him without trace.
His last shred of defiance evaporated, replaced by primal awe. Humans resent slight superiors but kneel before incomprehensible power.
“Questions.” Zuo Meng ignored formalities. “Answer them.”
“This humble one speaks truthfully.”
“What lies beyond mapped borders?” The map showed Three Great Lords’ domains—not nations, but regions ruled by Jianghu sects and clans, cities beneath them.
“The Murong family once explored southwest beyond the map.” Murong Tian swallowed. “Only gray deserts. No life. Just… emptiness.”
His voice trailed into silence.
“Really?”
Zuo Meng grew curious. He decided to explore beyond the mapped territories after settling matters with his Master and Junior Sister. With A Thousand Years of Inner Strength, he stood nearly unbeatable now—even the Three Great Lords posed no threat.
“Lord Human Respect once claimed that region had ‘died.’”
Murong Tian himself found the statement absurd after speaking. Worried about offending the Mysterious Person, he clasped his hands in apology.
“A dead world? Perhaps I misheard. Pay it no mind, sir.”
A dead world?
Zuo Meng’s gaze pierced the heavens as a suspicion arose.
*Was this world also crafted by another?*
After confirming the Liuhe Sect’s location through more questions, Zuo Meng stepped forward. His body dissolved into particles, vanishing from the room. Moments later, the study’s oil lamp flickered brighter. Murong Tian lifted his head from the desk, realizing he’d somehow dozed off.
“Master, you’re awake?”
Maid Xiao Cui rushed over with hot tea.
“When did I sleep?”
Murong Tian rubbed his temples, sensing missing memories.
“Two hours passed.”
Two hours?
*The Hour of the Dog already?*
Peering outside, Murong Tian saw midnight darkness. Crickets chirped clearly from the grass. The earlier events felt dreamlike—yet how could they be?
Shrugging on his coat, he left the study.
“A dream? Impossible.”
He scoffed. That person’s power had been too terrifyingly real, warping memories of everyone nearby. Against such strong individuals, even the entire Murong family stood helpless.
“At least he meant no harm.”
Shaking his head, Murong Tian resolved to ignore the study intrusion. What were family secrets to such a big shot?
Liuhe City.
Familiarity washed over Zuo Meng upon returning. This was where he’d first ventured after leaving the mountains, where his “no-cost business” hobby began, where he’d acquired dust powder. Fellow disciples from that time? Their names escaped him—not that he’d ever cared.
Inside the tavern,
Zuo Meng sipped wine between bites, listening to the Storyteller. No rush now—he’d savor real world flavors forgotten during seven centuries of Dream World schemes.
“The Liuhe Sect’s Headmaster’s no pushover! When Windstorm Stronghold attacked, he just swung his sword—”
The tales always centered on Liuhe Sect here. In their city, everyone knew whom to flatter.
“Enough bragging, Old Man!” A Jianghu drinker slammed his cup. “We know what your precious Headmaster did last month!”
“Aye!” Another joined in. “Bullying some Little Girl for her manual when her elder was away? Shameful!”