Beneath the Dreaming's castle lay a coffin, and inside it was imprisoned the dead "Dream of Dream." Su Ming couldn't say exactly what it was.
It might have been discarded junk drafts, the remains of Morpheus, the previous Dream, or perhaps simply a Nightmare. The last time Su Ming had visited the castle, he had seen that coffin. It was bound with countless thick Iron Chains, yet it had continued to shake.
But whatever was inside had little to do with Su Ming. His target was the Sand of Time.
This stuff was truly useful. Even if used solely as a murder poison, it was extraordinarily effective.
The butler had agreed to the terms of the trade, though he had acted all furtive about it. Anyone who did not know better might have thought he was dealing drugs. He was only trading sand from home for some tea leaves. Was that really necessary?
With that thought, Su Ming dipped a finger into the plastic bag, tasted a little sample, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Very good. Premium stuff, Grade A. Here, what you wanted."
Payment and goods were exchanged at the same time. Deathstroke slid a silver briefcase toward the butler.
The butler was left staring blankly. He knew Otherworld Deathstroke had always been known for his strange behavior, but this made it far too easy to associate him with drug dealing.
He hurriedly picked up the box of tea and shut the castle gates, as though afraid Deathstroke might rob him after the exchange.
Su Ming did not mind the old butler leaving without a word. He put away the Sand of Time and turned to leave.
After all, his objective had been achieved. The Remnant now slept in an eternal dream, and while Dream was away, he had obtained