Chapter 6: The Strange Natives of the Town

A figure approached the town square, clad in the standard attire of a novice monk. Both his build and appearance were familiar—he was one of the apprentice monks William remembered. Yet, from his erratic steps and tense, trembling body, it was clear he was attempting to mimic the stealthy gait of a monk, but his effort was nothing more than a clumsy imitation.

This was a clear sign of poor synchronization.

As he edged forward, the apprentice repeatedly glanced back, as if fearing a native inhabitant might suddenly emerge from the shadowy alleys behind him.

A light rain fell, and the apprentice crossed through the curtain of water, finally nearing the center of the square.

No longer hesitating, he swiftly dashed toward several weapons scattered across the ground, his feet pounding the puddles and sending up splashes.

From the shadowy alleys, cold and frenzied eyes began to gleam one by one.

“Almost there! Almost!” he muttered.

Among the firearms, the apprentice threw himself toward the most ostentatious and powerful—the thermite gun.

Just as he was about to reach it, several harpoons pierced through the rain, impaling his limbs and pinning him two steps away from the weapon.

Numerous numb, indifferent figures emerged, led by a tall, burly native carrying a kerosene lantern, who strode towards the intruder.

This leader seemed far stronger than the other native monsters. As he moved, strange dense patterns appeared on his pale gray skin, shimmering eerily in the lantern’s light—they resembled patches of fish scales.

“No!”

“No, stay away!” the apprentice shrieked in agony, his gaze filled with despair as his enemies closed in. Suddenly he shouted, “I know you’re all here… Stop hiding! Come save me!”

His desperate cries echoed among the layered black buildings; the town was utterly silent, and only the sound of rain answered him.

Li Nanke took a deep breath, drew the curtains, and looked away.

Soon, the tormented wails from outside reached his ears, identical to those of Lady Liliana—the sound of fat sizzling and flesh burning under the flames.

At the same moment, the synchronization notification chimed again: one fewer dreamer remained.

“Besides myself, only two apprentice monks and one armed monk, whose whereabouts are unknown, remain in the town.”

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“What a pity, that fellow was too incompetent—even failed to draw away the natives while escaping.”

From the brief skirmish, Li Nanke had already formed a rough estimate of the natives’ terrifying combat prowess.

He carefully searched the room, soon discovering a corpse of a town resident beneath the bed.

The neck bore jagged wounds, the blood drained dry; this must have been the handiwork of the apprentice monk William Adams.

William had succeeded in killing a town native and was hiding in the native’s own home.

Examining the corpse closely, Li Nanke quickly noticed several differences between the town natives and ordinary humans.

Their skin was pale gray, wrinkled from prolonged immersion in water, with semi-transparent, flesh-colored webbing between their fingers and toes.

Behind each ear, at the mastoid bone, there were three narrow fissures. Peeling them open, he found the cavities filled with vibrant red gill filaments.

“Amphibious creatures?”

Li Nanke frowned, fetched a saw blade, stripped the corpse of its clothes, and began a crude dissection.

He found the natives’ muscle fibers unusually robust, though their bones were somewhat less dense than average.

“Strong muscular power, but slightly weaker resistance to blows.”

Their lungs remained, but there was an additional fish-like respiratory system, while other organs were arranged similarly to humans.

“In other words, all the human weaknesses and vital points apply to the town natives as well.”

Of note, upon sawing open the skull, he found varying degrees of lesions in the parietal and prefrontal cortices.

Such damage severely affected the body, making attention difficult to sustain and heightening impulsiveness and aggression—traits linked to these brain regions.

Li Nanke shook blood from his gloves and returned to the window.

Since the rookie dreamer’s death, the central square had fallen silent. The remaining dreamers were either still hiding in nearby homes or had quietly bypassed the area, heading toward the key location—the church.

Regardless, Li Nanke needed to move quickly.

The weapons in the square were mere bait; the key node indicated the church as a place of refuge, meaning the current hut was no longer safe.

Soon, the town natives would likely discover the monks hiding indoors.

Li Nanke removed his monk’s hat, unfastened a weapon belt, secured the saw blade to his back so only the short handle protruded at his neck, and quickly donned the clothes of the town native.

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This way, unless someone looked closely, he would appear to be just another resident.

Li Nanke moved aside the heavy object blocking the door, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the cold wind and rain.

Through the misty rain, the central square was not far off. It lay quiet, dotted with scattered firearms, giving no hint of the lurking deadly danger.

Li Nanke withdrew his gaze, adopted the natives’ indifferent stride, and turned into a deserted alley.

According to William’s memories, the church lay to the south of town, not far from these residences and also near the harbor and sea.

He wound his way through the alleys, finally seeing the broad street at their end. Following that street would lead him to the church, the target of the key node.

But at the alley’s end stood a native, thin and holding a pitchfork, head bowed.

The frail figure stood with his back to Li Nanke, motionless, letting the rain drench him.

Li Nanke’s eyes grew cold as he slowly drew the saw blade from his back.

Though physically weakened, his skill allowed him to silently kill an unguarded native without difficulty.

Just as he was about to advance, he stopped instinctively, ears pricking, listening intently.

His high synchronization granted him extraordinary sensory acuity. Amid the constant patter of rain, he detected heavy, chaotic breathing.

And it wasn’t just from the native before him.

The alley was narrow, only wide enough for three or four people abreast.

Li Nanke pressed against the wall, looking toward the source of the sound. Beside the native, a wooden door hung ajar; the house within was dark, but the heavy breathing came from just inside, close to the door.

“Trying to set a trap, are you?”

Li Nanke had experienced many fabricated dreamscapes, some designed deliberately to disgust, to indulge masochists in difficult nightmares.

For such traps, as a veteran dream-weaver, he had developed an almost instinctive, razor-sharp intuition.

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