# 295
Chapter 295: What Do You Like to Eat?
Each time a poem that resonates with the heart is recited, it produces a corresponding influence on the surroundings.
This influence is not limited to creating things out of thin air; it can also use the existing environment to achieve its effect.
For example, inside the Asylum of the Gods, Lin Qiye’s surroundings lacked the conditions for “a waterfall plunging three thousand feet,” so he had to use the crudest method—expending the greatest amount of mental energy—to conjure a river out of nothing.
But here, Lin Qiye summoned a stream of water almost without any cost, because the place already satisfied the requirement of “a waterfall plunging three thousand feet.” The “influence” was no longer about creating water from nothing, but simply twisting the faucet handle, allowing water to flow.
Although the stream from the faucet was far weaker than the river in the asylum, it had to be remembered that this was accomplished under the suppression of the Monument of Suppression.
While the Monument suppressed both the [Darkest God’s Ruins] and the [Illusory Demon God’s Ruins], it could not suppress [Skyward Bard]. This wasn’t because the latter was stronger than the two God’s Ruins, but because it could achieve its “influence” by utilizing the surrounding environment.
In short, [Skyward Bard] consumed less energy and was easier to trigger under specific conditions, barely slipping past the Monument’s suppression.
Even though its power under suppression was pitifully small, it was still the second supernatural method Lin Qiye could use besides [Mortal Divine Realm].
After figuring out the mechanism of [Skyward Bard], Lin Qiye returned to bed and, as usual, fell into a deep sleep…
…
He didn’t know how much time had passed. In a daze, Lin Qiye opened his eyes.
A tall black wall loomed in the distance. Beneath the dim sky was an empty outdoor exercise yard. He stood dazedly in front of the transparent door of Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital.
The familiar prison, the familiar asylum, the familiar corner…
Lin Qiye stood there, staring at the familiar scene. Only after a long moment did a sluggish thought surface in his mind:
“Am I… dreaming?”
He shook his head and looked around. Everything seemed blurred, as if a veil had been draped over the world. Only the most inconspicuous corner remained vivid and clear.
There, a figure in a blue-and-white striped patient’s uniform squatted, messy hair piled like a bird’s nest. He stared blankly at the ground, lost in thought.
It was Wu “Old Dog.”
Lin Qiye sighed helplessly.
Spend too much time with mental patients and even your dreams are filled with them…
He walked over and squatted beside Wu “Old Dog,” casually saying, “Let me guess—this time you’re watching Little Grass-er.”
Wu “Old Dog” glanced at him and shook his head. “Nope. I’m watching Little Stone-er.”
His voice sounded different from daytime—less hoarse and shrill, more steady and calm.
Lin Qiye grinned and couldn’t help asking, “Where are you from anyway? Why the love for retroflex endings?”
Wu “Old Dog” kept staring at the empty ground in front of him, as if he hadn’t heard the question, motionless as a statue.
Lin Qiye shook his head, stood up, and gave up trying to communicate.
Just as he was about to leave, Wu “Old Dog” suddenly spoke behind him:
“What do you like to eat?”
“What?” Lin Qiye froze and looked back.
Wu “Old Dog” still squatted there quietly, eyes on the empty ground, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
Lin Qiye hesitated, then answered, “I like fish. What about you?”
“You like fish,” Wu “Old Dog” murmured. “But some people don’t.”
Lin Qiye asked in confusion, “What does someone not liking fish have to do with me?”
“I heard some people like… fragrant, five-spice, numbing-spicy, spiral-to-heaven, turning-curve, pickled-cabbage, beef noodles,” Wu “Old Dog” intoned like a sutra.
“What?” Lin Qiye frowned deeper. “What does someone liking that have to do with me?”
Wu “Old Dog” said nothing.
Wait…
Lin Qiye suddenly thought of something, a strange light flashing in his eyes.
That mouthful of a name—spicy whatever beef noodles—sounded familiar.
In the dream, his mind felt sluggish; he knew he’d heard it somewhere, but couldn’t recall.
While he racked his brain, Wu “Old Dog” glanced at him again and calmly said:
“Dawn is breaking.”
In an instant, Lin Qiye’s consciousness plummeted…
…
Whoosh!
Lin Qiye jerked upright in bed, brows knitted, eyes full of confusion.
He looked at the clock on the wall—exactly 7 a.m.
He closed his eyes and carefully recalled the strange dream; his puzzlement only deepened…
He shook his head, tossed the messy thoughts aside, and got up to wash.
…
Purification Chamber.
“Boss, I’ve checked every suspicious guy, but… nothing,” Scarface said through the bars to Boss Han next door.
Boss Han frowned. “What do you mean, nothing?”
“At the time we think One-Eye was killed, they all had alibis,” Scarface scratched his head. “Activity period had just started; they were all together in the cafeteria. No chance to kill him…”
Boss Han’s frown deepened.
“So it really wasn’t them?” he muttered.
“Boss, I think we can rule out our own people. Only those few silent types… maybe they did it?” Scarface ventured.
“Hmph.” Boss Han snorted, a ruthless glint in his eyes. “Most likely. Tomorrow you go find out who’s got the guts.”
Scarface hesitated, uneasy. “Boss, those guys are all [Believers]. Outside they’re at least River Realm, even Klein—real monsters. I… I don’t dare mess with them!”
“Idiot! This is the Purification Chamber. In here they’re all useless. What are you afraid of?” Boss Han cursed.
“But even if they can’t use Forbidden Ruins, I still can’t beat them…” Scarface whined. “In the whole chamber, only you can take them, boss.”
Boss Han spat. After a long silence he said darkly, “Fine. I’ll handle it myself.”
Scarface exhaled, then added, “Boss, let me check that new kid too. Something about him feels off…”
“Do whatever you want.”