As the crimson sword energy was unleashed, the entire dream space trembled.
Dreams are spaces constructed by consciousness, made of memory, and sustained by the spiritual energy of the conscious mind. Consciousness is the master of dreams; everything in a dream is created by consciousness. Nothing in a dream can harm consciousness, just as nothing in the real world can harm the Creator.
The only way to harm consciousness is to fight spirit with spirit, weakening the opponent's Mental Power. This is a contest of strength; the strong are strong, and the weak are weak, and there is no room for deception.
Zhao Pengcheng had been concealing his power, but he also couldn't see through Qingmu's Mental Power. He had sensed it last time in the criminal investigation team's interrogation room; this strangely dressed man was unfathomable.
Qingmu knew Zhao Pengcheng was hiding his strength, because the Mental Power he sensed directly in the dream wasn't particularly strong. However, the fact that Zhao Pengcheng could feign strength in front of Qingmu during interrogation meant he possessed considerable power. Qingmu wasn't afraid, though; the strength of Mental Power was immediately apparent. Now, in Zhao Pengcheng's dream, he was the intruder, holding the initiative. No matter what method Zhao Pengcheng used, unless he could defeat him in one blow, he could at least escape. Of course, he didn't believe Zhao Pengcheng had such power; in fact, he had never encountered someone like him before.
Zhao Pengcheng chose a relatively safe and covert attack method.
He controlled the size of the dream space, keeping it within a very small range so as not to consume too much of his Mental Power. In the event of an accident, he would also have time to cause the dream to collapse in order to protect his consciousness.
He concentrated his remaining Mental Power, focusing it bit by bit onto the virtual scalpel in his hand. Now, this scalpel was no longer a scalpel, but an incomparably sharp spiritual energy that could ignore all obstacles and pierce straight into the source of the spirit.
If an ordinary person's Mental Power were struck by such a blow, their consciousness would likely dissipate instantly. Even if the person was stronger, their Mental Power would be greatly weakened. Even against a strong opponent of the same level, or even one slightly stronger, it would be difficult to defend against such a concentrated, sharp, knife-like mental stimulation if the opponent was unprepared. Once the opponent was injured, the person would gain the upper hand in the ensuing confrontation.
The blade's aura was sharp and fierce, like fire and ice, and it roared in with the power to tear through space.
Because Zhao Pengcheng used most of his Mental Power for attacking, he had very little Mental Power left to maintain the dream space. The power of this strike was immense, causing the space to tremble and even showing signs of collapse. Once the space collapsed, even if this strike harmed his opponent, it would inevitably harm himself as well.
But Zhao Pengcheng ignored him. He was determined to win, to strike with a single blow, not necessarily knocking his opponent down, but inflicting sufficient damage. Otherwise, he didn't know what consequences keeping such a person around would bring.
The blade's energy pierced Qingmu's body with a sharp slash. However, this fierce spiritual energy vanished without a trace, like a clay ox sinking into the sea.
Zhao Pengcheng didn't know how Qingmu had managed to block his attack. It was too bizarre! No matter how powerful a consciousness was, the collision of two Mental Power would always produce some reaction. Just like a small meteorite, even if it hit the earth, would still create some sparks and cause some damage, at the very least leaving a crater. Unless the opponent's Mental Power was incredibly strong, compared to him, Zhao Pengcheng was like a willow catkin falling into a vast swamp, unable to cause even the slightest ripple.
When his knife missed its mark, Zhao Pengcheng felt a void in his body, as if all the blood had been drained from him. His vision went black, and he almost fainted.
However, a conscious being will not faint. The feeling of fainting indicates that its Mental Power is dissipating and it can no longer support this space and the creations within it, including its own image.
Logically, the dream space should have collapsed at this point, but he waited for a long time without exiting the dream. This precarious space seemed to be supported by something, including everything within it. He felt a powerful force enveloping his body, preventing him from disintegrating but also rendering him unable to move, let alone exit the dream.
"Can I ask you questions now?" Qingmu said.
"Who exactly are you?" Faced with the overwhelming disparity in strength, Zhao Pengcheng was a little scared.
He began to hate the human body. The most advanced beings on this planet are so complex in their physiological structure that they can interact with consciousness and generate emotions and desires.
He could understand the satisfaction and pleasure a race experiences in eating and sex due to the needs of survival and reproduction, just as the ancient philosophers of humankind said—food and sex are human nature. But he could not tolerate or understand other unnecessary emotions, one of which was fear.
Fear makes people timid, which may increase their chances of survival, but a hesitant and timid approach also leads to missed opportunities. Individually, timid people have a greater chance of survival, but a much smaller chance of success. Collectively, while humanity has survived by being cautious because of fear, it has also slowed its progress towards higher levels of civilization.
"I am Qingmu." Qingmu always answered this question concisely and never hid anything.
Zhao Pengcheng looked at Qingmu, trying his best to suppress his inner fear, and said, "With your powerful consciousness, you can directly search my memories, so why bother asking me?"
"Should I do a disk scan? I'm not antivirus software, I don't have a virus database, and even after scanning, I might not know which information I need. Besides, if I scan everything, it's like I've taken over all your memories, and my brain..."
Qingmu initially wanted to say that there was something wrong with his brain, that he himself didn't know what he could remember. Sometimes his brain was so sharp it was like he had a cheat code, and other times he was as stupid as a three-year-old. But he didn't think he should tell this alien in front of him such a thing, so he changed his words:
"... My brain has a limited capacity; it can't store that much information."
Zhao Pengcheng asked, "What do you want to know?"
Qingmu thought for a moment and asked, "How did you contact each other?"
"Us?"
"Yes, you, it's... you." Qingmu didn't know how to address them.
"Telephone, email, WeChat... whatever you use to communicate, we'll use the same."
"No, that's impossible," Qingmu said. "Although consciousness itself doesn't carry any memories—you're merely parasites within human bodies, inheriting human memories—you must possess some unique methods of communication and information transmission. Otherwise, you wouldn't know who you are, wouldn't be able to form an organization, and wouldn't even consider concealing your identities or the existence of the Gray Brain Virus. These things might not be in your memories, which is why you felt comfortable letting me search your memories myself. So, tell me, how do you communicate with each other?"
Zhao Pengcheng sneered, "Why should I tell you?"