With her supply of spirit stones finally stable, Song Miaozhu returned her focus to cultivation. There was still one more technique from the Secret Art of Paper Crafting she hadn't tried.
Using paper-crafting techniques, she could construct a miniature paper bridge. Once imbued with spirit through the Dream-Crossing Ritual, it would become a "Dream-Crossing Paper Bridge."
Before sleep, placing the paper bridge beside her pillow would allow her to remain clear-minded in her dreams and step across the bridge into someone else's dream realm.
But there was a strict condition: she had to return before dawn. If not, she would become trapped in the rift between dreams.
In ancient times, this technique was used by the ancestors to delve into others' subconscious secrets or steal cultivation techniques from their dreams. Beyond that, the Secret Art of Paper Crafting also recorded another use for the Dream-Crossing Bridge—lucid dreaming.
In a lucid dream, one's consciousness remained sharp and controlled. Within this controlled space, the practitioner could simulate and explore the laws of heaven and earth, deepening their understanding of natural order and smoothing the path of cultivation.
But today, the path of cultivation no longer depended on comprehending the rhythms of the cosmos. Instead, refining one's craft was the key.
Practicing paper crafting in a lucid dream? Song Miaozhu found that less useful than simply crafting in real life. After all, paper was cheap and plentiful. She never lacked materials. Crafting in the real world not only improved her skill but also absorbed spiritual energy, directly increasing her cultivation—far more practical than dream simulations.
As for exploring others' dreams, what was the point?
The technique sounded intriguing, but the risk was real. Fail to return before sunrise, and she could lose herself forever in a dream rift.
Even if she wanted to peek into the dream of a master craftsman, it wasn't worth the danger. There were still many techniques left to learn from her ghost instructors. Once she mastered this generation's skills, she could always invite the next group.
No need to risk everything to steal knowledge from a stranger's mind.
So, for Song Miaozhu, the Dream-Crossing Bridge wasn't all that useful. She decided to learn it only to refine her spirit-infusion technique and paper-crafting skills. Besides, she was mildly curious about how the spiritual item version of the Dream-Crossing Bridge would perform.
After channeling ten strands of blue spiritual energy, the bridge awakened.
The spirit-detecting bronze mirror confirmed it: the spiritual version of the Dream-Crossing Paper Bridge would automatically manifest another bridge before dawn, guiding the user safely back to their original dream. The risk of being trapped was effectively nullified.
Only after confirming its safety did Song Miaozhu decide to test it.
Truth be told, she hadn't slept in a long time.
Ever since learning to replenish her energy with spiritual power, she had stopped eating regularly. Sleep became an even rarer luxury. Her mountain hideout didn't even have a bed. Only a reclining chair—used when attending class in the underworld—stood in for a place to rest her body.
Other cultivators did this too, but few were as extravagant as using spiritual energy as a daily substitute for food and sleep. Song Miaozhu placed the Dream-Crossing Paper Bridge on the headrest of the recliner—close enough to count as "by the pillow."
That day, she deliberately avoided using spiritual energy to stay alert. She let her body grow weary, savoring a long-forgotten fatigue. Lying down and closing her eyes, it didn't take long before drowsiness crept in. After she fell asleep, the bridge beside her began to emit a soft glow.
In the misty white of her dreamscape, a small bridge appeared before her. On the far end, clusters of dream bubbles floated gently in the air.
Standing on the bridge, Song Miaozhu remained fully lucid, scanning the bubbles with clear intent. "Which one should I choose?"
Figures flitted across the translucent bubbles. Most were strangers.
After watching for a while, she finally spotted a familiar face—Old Master Zhao. With a thought, the bridge stretched forward, connecting to the elder's dream. Song Miaozhu turned into a butterfly and fluttered across the bridge into his dream. The surroundings resembled the backyard of a wood carving workshop.
Old Master Zhao was at work, carving wood. Only the area around him was vivid. Everything else faded into a soft blur. If Song Miaozhu hadn't visited the workshop several times before, she wouldn't have recognized it.
From one of the blurry buildings nearby, a man rushed out. "Dad! How does this one look?"
Old Master Zhao glanced at it and immediately scolded, "Terrible! I've told you, wood carving starts with the basics—shaving wood. Don't aim too high too fast! If you don't master the fundamentals, everything else is useless!"
"Dad, come on! Teach Kenny!" A woman appeared beside him, holding a tablet. On the screen was a video call with a young mixed-race boy, who glanced around, clearly distracted.
"He only speaks English. How am I supposed to teach him anything?" Old Master Zhao sighed.
"You talk, I'll translate," the woman insisted. "He's your grandson, after all. Kids learn fast. You always said my brother and I couldn't sit still or take hardship, which is why we never inherited your craft. Kenny's different. He'll work hard!"
"Dad, wood carving's too hard. The progress is slow, and it's tough on the hands. Can't you help us immigrate back and let us learn something else in the SEIU?" the man said.
"Judging by your lazy attitude, you won't succeed in any craft," the old man snapped.
"You're really my dad? Talking like that?" the man shot back.
"We're not asking to learn something else. If you help us immigrate back, Kenny can be your apprentice. If he slacks off, I'll give him a good beating!" the woman said.
…
Song Miaozhu watched them argue until the dream began to fade. Sensing the collapse, she quickly returned across the bridge to her own dream and woke up.
"So Old Master Zhao's kids want to come back?"
She remembered that both of his children had gone abroad years ago, marrying and raising families overseas. They hadn't returned in a long time.
People in Yuanshan Ancient Town used to say Old Master Zhao had raised two unfilial children and lived like a lonely old man.
After dawn, Song Miaozhu messaged Zhao Mumu to confirm the gossip.
[Wood & Flow]:So you've heard? They reached out last year, hoping to come back. There's no way for ordinary folks overseas to study handcraft cultivation techniques. Meanwhile, here in China, everyone's practicing. Their whole families want to immigrate back. But with current restrictions on foreign entries, immigration is nearly impossible.
[Wood & Flow]:It was only through my master's connections that they got a one-week family visit visa. But after they came back, they kept pestering him for a permanent solution. He's too soft-hearted. He knows they have ulterior motives, but he still wants them to come home in the end.
[Wood & Flow]:But helping family immigrate back costs a huge amount of contribution points. My master spent his on Gathering Spirit Dolls. He didn't save any, and now he's stuck.
Song Miaozhu: "…"
Every family has its own story, hard to read and harder to fix.