Chapter 226: An Unexpected Big Shot Sneaks In

Gawain strode confidently down the grand avenue of this “City of Dreams,” wearing the face of Charles I without a hint of worry about being exposed.

After all, he’d already seen more than twenty other Charles I’s along the way…

Charles I wasn’t exactly a world-shakingly handsome figure, but clearly, walking the streets with the visage of the founding monarch of Ansu carried its own unique flair. These Sleeper cultists, lost in their virtual world, were still human after all—complete with desires and quirks. And in some… peculiar ways, they had their own tastes.

All of this gave Gawain an indescribable sense of dissonance.

Is this what the Sleepers had been striving for? A fabricated, beautiful, almost mythical dreamscape?

Gawain could distinctly feel that this virtual world was very different from the illusions he’d encountered before. It was not only grander and more magnificent, but also more tangible, more immersive. Every leaf, every ray of sunlight, even every speck of dust was meticulously crafted and operated as if it were real. The “residents” wandering the streets wore expressions of contentment and joy, as if they had completely forgotten this was a virtual space.

He was also surprised—he hadn’t expected the Sleepers to be so numerous.

If this massive city, along with the floating lands and palaces in the sky, were all inhabited, the number of Sleeper cultists could be staggering—possibly in the millions.

Could a low-profile cult that had been quietly growing really have amassed such a population?

Gawain wandered through this dream city, his mind full of questions, gradually piecing together more about this incredible place through interactions with its “residents.”

Following the main avenue through the city center, he trusted his instincts to explore, seeking anything that might reveal the city’s secrets. But when he tried to enter a deserted domed building, he had to stop.

The supposedly perfect “dream” had a glaring flaw here. Inside the dome, light and shadow were chaotic and fragmented. The pristine marble floor covered less than a third of the interior; the rest was vast, dull gray-black voids. The broken, scattered light seemed to connect with these empty spaces, creating a disordered, chaotic scene.

This was the fourth “unfinished area” he’d found in the city.

He recalled what he’d heard from the “residents.”

The City of Dreams had been activated prematurely. Originally, the Sleepers had planned to prepare for a long time before launching this massive psychic network, but changing circumstances forced them to start early. This led to multiple “leaks” in the city. Not only was the city itself incomplete, but the floating lands and palaces in the sky were unfinished as well—many lands existed only as outlines, barren and colorless, while the palaces were empty shells, filled with mind-devouring “psychic voids.”

Gawain didn’t know what “changing circumstances” had forced the Sleepers’ hand, but instinctively, he suspected it had something to do with the “Alignment of the Stars.” Tyr had mentioned that the “Stormborn,” those superstitious warriors battling sea monsters, seemed aware of the stars’ alignment and the awakening of gods. They often held grand astrological ceremonies or painted symbols related to stars and ancient gods on reefs. Gawain had reason to believe the Sleepers, closely connected to the Stormborn, were privy to this knowledge.

The stars align, the gods awaken, and to welcome this event, the cultists had to prematurely offer an unprepared “sacrifice”?

That was the only reasonable explanation Gawain could come up with, though many details remained unknown. But the general direction seemed right.

The problem was, the stars had aligned correctly sixteen times already—and their gods still hadn’t awakened.

Gawain wasn’t sure if there were other divine corpses on this planet, but he knew the only confirmed god lay at the ocean’s bottom—and it wasn’t enough to satisfy those deep-sea entities.

In that case, the Sleepers’ premature activation of the psychic network was all for nothing. Worse, the manpower and resources wasted, the disruption of their plans, and the risk of exposure would deal a heavy blow to their arrogance.

Thinking of this, Gawain couldn’t help but chuckle and shook his head with a smile as he left the inaccessible dome.

He knew the three great dark cults were deeply rooted; even if they all accidentally triggered large-scale rituals early and suffered losses, it wouldn’t shake their foundations. But losses were losses—at least in the short term, their frequency of stirring up trouble would drop significantly.

The city’s “residents” continued their carefree “lives,” faces bright with joy. They numbed their senses with illusions and dreams, basking in the happiness of some fulfilled wish—though who knew how long that joy would last? Probably only until the stars had aligned and passed without a single god awakening.

To avoid trouble, Gawain didn’t return to the main road but slipped through alleys between buildings, gradually approaching the city’s core. The moment he stepped into the center, he felt the atmosphere shift.

A solemn, reverent aura hung in the air. The relaxed, easygoing vibe of the outer city seemed to vanish behind an invisible barrier. Gawain looked around in surprise—and sure enough, a faint, nearly transparent “wall” rose behind him, stretching to both sides, seemingly enclosing the entire city center.

He didn’t move rashly but carefully observed the area around this transparent wall. He quickly noticed that almost all the “residents” stayed outside the wall. Only a few passed through it—and those fell into two groups: some, like himself, walked in casually; others paused at the wall, reciting incantations or inputting commands with their hands before entering.

A “permission lock”? Only authorized individuals could pass?

Gawain glanced down at his body in astonishment. He was sure he had just walked in casually, only realizing the barrier’s presence after crossing it due to the change in atmosphere.

Did he have some kind of “high-level permission” here?

Where did this permission come from… Could it be from the Sleeper whose identity he had devoured?

He frowned. If that was true, the Sleepers’ permission system was a mess—dead cult members’ accounts weren’t even canceled, and someone else could just slip in wearing their “mask”…

But on second thought, it wasn’t really a loophole. Normally, a dead member’s account would be automatically canceled. Who would have guessed a devourer like him would slip in wearing a dead man’s identity?

Either way, Gawain raised his guard and decided to be more cautious about contact. The higher the permission level, the fewer people could pass—and the fewer people who could, the more he’d stand out. If the Sleeper he’d devoured was some kind of top-tier leader, like one of the Four Heavenly Kings or Five Elders, then barging into the highest permission zone and running into them would blow his cover.

He wasn’t afraid of losing a psychic duel to these weaklings with only a few hundred years of memory and experience, but if he got kicked out of the psychic network, that would be a big problem.

As he moved discreetly forward, he suddenly noticed a small plaza ahead. In the center floated a stunning pale blue crystal, its surface shimmering with faint particles that bathed the plaza in a mysterious, beautiful light. Scattered around the crystal were a handful of figures—not talking, clearly not gathered for a meeting. A few had their hands on the crystal’s surface, while the rest stood silently with eyes closed, as if deep in thought.

What was this crystal for?

Gawain frowned and began searching the memories he’d devoured from the Sleeper. After a difficult search through the fragmented information, he found a clue—it seemed to be some kind of advanced communication device.

A higher-level node in the psychic network? A “manifested projection” of a communication node in the virtual space?

He hesitated, then decided not to miss this opportunity.

Calmly, he stepped into the plaza and placed his hand on the crystal. The cultists nearby glanced at him sideways but said nothing. The two closest shifted slightly, making room for him.

Gawain gave a slight nod—he had established a connection with the crystal and now had to focus.

After several failed attempts, he finally figured out how to use the knowledge he’d absorbed. Suddenly, fragments of information flashed through his mind, and in the next moment, the vast database swung open its doors to him!

Success!

A flood of data and information streamed through Gawain’s mind. He marveled at the “database” the Sleeper cultists had built within this psychic network and once again pondered whether this world’s technology was advanced or primitive.

Who would have thought that a bunch of crazed cultists could create such a massive psychic network, a vast virtual world, and an enormous information exchange system in a world that looked medieval on the surface?

Of course, they had built it all through crude, unreasonable magic, and their use of this advanced system was primitive and backward. To Gawain, they seemed more obsessed with creating a hedonistic virtual paradise than using the network to solve real-world problems. But there was no denying—it was a magnificent creation.

Magnificent enough to make Gawain start scheming…

While his mind buzzed with ideas for stealing their technology, he kept scanning the data streams. Most of the information was useless, since the virtual world had just been activated and most reports concerned the operation of various illusory spaces. But suddenly, one message caught his attention:

“Plan for the eighteenth attempt to decrypt the memory fragments of Gawain Cecil, and notice to allocate more computing power.”

(End of chapter)