Chapter 1164 - Memories That Are Hard to Distinguish Between Real and Fake
Chapter 1164: Memories That Are Hard to Distinguish Between Real and Fake
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
“What is this?”
Meng Chao’s consciousness curiously swam over.
He found that at the bottom of the Ancient Dream Saintess’ memory database, there was a huge and dazzling “balloon jellyfish.”
Compared with the dim memory cells around it, the “balloon jellyfish” was much more powerful.
This memory was both clear and extensive. It could be described as being very detailed and unforgettable.
Moreover, a large number of tentacles grew out of the surface of the balloon jellyfish and connected with the Ancient Dream Saintess’ brain. It continuously sent a large amount of information to her soul.
“How is this possible?”
“What’s stored here should be the fragmented and blurry memories of the Ancient Dream Saintess before she was four or five years old.”
“No one can still remember everything that happened before they’re four or five years old once they’re in their teens or twenties.”
Meng Chao gathered his subconscious and observed carefully.
He found that the surface of this particular memory cell was covered in a layer of faint red light.
It was like a burning flame that was fueled by fresh blood.
There was a large amount of mysterious and complicated wrinkles that looked like runes rippling out on the flame.
“This… isn’t the Ancient Dream Saintess’ original memory!
“It’s a fake memory that someone planted into her brain!”
Meng Chao’s subconscious suddenly contracted.
He felt that he had found the key.
Without any hesitation, Meng Chao immediately released a hair-thin “thought tentacle” from his subconscious.
He let the thought tentacle gently pierce the imaginary memory.
It was a colorless world.
However, it was a vivid nightmare precisely outlined by two hundred and fifty-six levels of black and white.
Meng Chao, who was deep in the nightmare, heard hungry crows chattering first.
He saw groups of crows flapping their black wings and circling a village from above, eager to devour the corpses of some rat people.
The village that was enveloped by the crows had already become a dead area.
The corpses everywhere were of those who had been infected with the plague and had died miserably.
There were also all kinds of snakes, insects, rats, and ants, as well as fungi that had been moistened by spirit energy. Their cells were a hundred times more active than their counterparts on Earth. They had invaded the corpses, causing the limbs of the corpses to constantly twitch and their bellies to bulge. It was as if they were still dancing crazily after they died.
The people who were still alive were also tortured by pain and were beyond recognizable.
With their twisted limbs and bodies covered in pustules, they dug a huge pit at the entrance of the village like walking corpses and threw their dead loved ones into it one by one.
They knew very well that with their poor strength and the thickness of the soil, it was impossible for them to dig too deep into the pit and bury bodies.
After they died, it would not be long before the crows and hyenas dragged out everyone’s bodies and devour them.
Despite all that, the numb people still dug and buried the deceased, as well as themselves, in vain, because in the face of cruel fate, there was nothing else they could do.
There was only one emaciated little girl in the whole village who had not been infected with the plague.
However, she felt a deep sense of confusion and fear in the face of her defaced home, the dead villagers, and the corpses of her relatives who were covered in insects and blankets.
It was as if an invisible plague had invaded her brain and infected her soul. She had just been born not long ago and had yet to see the world clearly.
The little girl could only hug a puppy doll made of the most delicate mandrake branches tightly and close her eyes with all her might.
She naively thought that as long as she closed her eyes long enough, when she opened them again, all the disasters would be over, the dead villagers and relatives would be resurrected, and everyone’s life would be restored to its original state.
Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes again, an increasing number of villagers, who were living like zombies, were digging next to the grave pit and falling inside, turning into real corpses. On top of that, there were fewer and fewer living people around her. Things were not taking a turn for the better.
Finally, all the villagers except the little girl died of the plague.
Other than her sobs as she buried her face in the puppy doll and the bellies of corpses exploding due to the excessive expansion of gas, there was no other sound.
The little girl finally could not bear it.
Her faint sobs turned into a wail.
She jumped to the edge of the grave filled with the corpses of her relatives and villagers, took the tools they had used before they died, and dug desperately.
She did not know what the purpose of the work was.
It was just that the edge of the grave was a little closer to her relatives and friends.
However, those d*mned crows were the best at bullying the weak.
When the adults were still alive, the crows only dared to hover in the air, never landing. They were afraid that the adults would use a catapult to smash out their brains.
After realizing that the little girl was the only one left in the village, the crows let out a mocking shriek and flapped their wings. They descended upon the pile of corpses, and they pecked at the corpses’ flesh and blood right in front of the girl.
“Go away! Go away!”
The little girl waved a bone shovel made of twigs and bone pieces, trying to disperse the crows.
Her reckless action angered the flock of black birds.
Dozens of crows flew toward her and fiercely pecked at her delicate skin.
In addition, the manufacturing process of the bone shovel was crude, and the center of gravity was too close to the front, causing the little girl to lose her balance when she waved it forcefully. She actually slipped and fell into the grave pit that was filled with hundreds of corpses.
Corpses piled up like a mountain.
Crows danced wildly in the sky.
There were also wounds all over her body that had been pecked out by crows, and she was in excruciating pain.
All of these added unforgettable details to this memory.
“Leaf told me that a super plague once broke out in the Ancient Dream Saintess’ hometown. Everyone, including her parents, died. She was the only one who survived and embarked on a difficult and dangerous road of fate.”
Meng Chao thought, “It seems that this memory was left behind at that time. It’s not complete fiction.
“However, even if a four-or five-year-old child really experienced the tragedy of her family being destroyed, it’d be impossible for her to remember it so clearly. Even the crow hovering above her head, which was hungry and vicious, is vividly depicted.
“This isn’t a memory at all.
“It’s a carefully fabricated imagination mixed with real memories!”
At that moment, the little girl who fell into the grave in the dream screamed.
All the crows above her head gathered together and turned into a ferocious black dragon with wings that covered the sky and the earth. Its fangs were interlaced like swords and halberds.
The black dragon opened its bloody mouth and pounced on the little girl, as though it wanted to devour her and all the corpses of her family members.
At that critical moment, a red light flashed behind the little girl, and a scarlet flame shot out.
The scarlet flame was like a long sword condensed from fresh blood.
It directly pierced through the black dragon’s bloody mouth.
It pierced deep into the black dragon’s body through its throat.
It then stirred up hundreds and thousands of impenetrable sword rays.
It tore the black dragon into pieces and split it into hundreds of panicked crows.
These crows flapped their wings desperately, trying to run away like headless flies.
However, before they could fly into the sky, the long blood sword had already turned into scarlet flames again, catching up with and swallowing them. It turned all the crows into bright fireballs.
The fireballs that looked like flowers from heaven lit up the black and white world, smearing a strong color on the bleak world.
The little girl, who had survived the disaster, turned her head back inch by inch.
Seeing the mountain-like pile of corpses behind her, they also became colorful and dazzling.
Perhaps because of the plague, all the corpses had a thick layer of fungus blanket on their surface, and all the fungus blankets were given a colorful color.
Maybe since the corpses themselves were the little girl’s most familiar relatives, friends, and neighbors, they were the only people she could trust and rely on in this world.
In short, the colorful mountain of corpses did not give the little girl any sense of fear.
Instead, it gave her a strong sense of security and reliance.
It was like a real, living mountain.
“Don’t be afraid, my child.”
A voice came from the mountain of corpses that was full of vitality.
It was a very warm female voice.
The moment one heard it, one would hear curling smoke from the kitchen, a warm stove, and the sweet smell of roasted mandrake fruits.
The little girl widened her eyes.
She realized that it was her mother’s voice.
It was the voice of her mother who had long died in the plague. Her father had buried her with his own hands. Her corpse was covered in a blanket of bacteria, but it was like a layer of colorful gauze. She was still as beautiful as ever!
“Don’t be afraid, my child!”
A second voice came from the mountain of corpses that was full of vitality.
It was a deep, firm, and tough male voice.
It made one think of hard sweat, hearty laughter, a big and broad back, and arms that were thicker than the trunk of a mandrake tree.
It was her father’s voice.
It was the voice that held her tightly in his arms, holding her until she could not breathe, telling her that there was nothing to be afraid of. The plague would soon pass, and they would be able to survive.
He had spat at the sky and shouted crazily at the pile of corpses, encouraging all the survivors to fight the d*mned plague to the death.
Yet, in the dead of night, he sobbed silently, biting on mandrake branches to suppress his grief and indignation.. On the day before his death, he had tried his best to speak with the voice of a smiling father!