Chapter 47: The End of a Dream

A crisp snap echoed across the empty platform.

Yan Meng stood beside the mountain of sleeping passengers, his pale fingers still posed from snapping.

He looked down at the humans trapped in deep sleep, powerless to resist, and a sense of pleasure from controlling everything welled up inside him.

But then, a faint sense of unease swept through his mind.

He felt as if he’d forgotten something important—like waking from a vivid dream, remembering only the emotion but not the details.

The feeling vanished in a flash, like a stone tossed into a lake whose ripples fade before they spread.

Forget it.

He shook his head.

Maybe it was just a common fluctuation from constructing a new dream—no need to dwell on it.

For now, enjoying this feast was what mattered.

However, before the sickly smile on his lips could fully form, a voice filled with overwhelming pressure rang out in front of him:

“Demon, prepare to die.”

Yan Meng looked toward the source, unable to react in time.

A massive Meteor Hammer came hurtling toward him with a shrieking sound.

Yan Meng had no time to dodge completely.

Instinctively, he raised his left arm, infused with the power of Blood Demon Art, to block, trying to activate Sound Hypnosis.

“Sleep—”

He had barely spoken two words.

The Meteor Hammer grazed his shoulder.

Suddenly, he could no longer feel his left arm—pain exploded through him.

A muffled crash rang out, bones and flesh crushed in an instant.

Yan Meng’s left arm was completely severed from his body.

A towering figure stood in the center of the platform, blocking the way.

He held a Chain linking the Meteor Hammer and a Great Axe in his hand.

The attack just now had come from him.

“Eh? Why is a Hashira here…?”

Yan Meng tilted his head in confusion.

The weapon etched with demon-slaying marks was unmistakable.

The situation was starting to look bad.

Without his left hand, he couldn’t use his most potent Sound Hypnosis Blood Demon Art—half his power was gone.

The Stone Hashira gave him no chance to breathe.

Retrieving the Meteor Hammer, he swung it again.

The iron Chain and hammerhead grazed Yan Meng’s side, smashing a small pit into the ground.

Yan Meng stumbled aside, colliding with a sleeping passenger.

The sensation of the body against his back brought him back to his senses.

He still had his eyes.

Even if Sound Hypnosis via his left hand was destroyed, it didn’t matter.

He still had Forced Hypnosis: Sleep Eye.

As long as the enemy saw the pattern in his eyes…

He jerked his head up, desperately using his remaining right hand to point at his own eyes.

Strange patterns spun in his pupils as he tried to capture the Stone Hashira’s gaze.

“Look into my eyes! Sleep—!”

But the next second, he froze.

Yet, the Stone Hashira’s forward motion didn’t pause at all.

Those completely white eyes stared emptily ahead—or rather, weren’t even seeing the world.

Gyomei Himejima was blind.

He fought relying on senses far sharper than normal humans: hearing and touch.

Yan Meng’s most relied-upon visual hypnosis was utterly useless against a blind man.

“How… how can this be?!”

Yan Meng finally panicked.

He was never a close-combat type demon.

His two famous hypnosis arts—one crippled, one ineffective.

Facing a physical powerhouse like the Stone Hashira, who had reached the pinnacle of strength and skill, Yan Meng was as fragile as paper.

At that moment, he felt a tingling at the stump of his left hand.

A sign of regeneration.

Just as hope ignited in his heart, the Stone Hashira’s Meteor Hammer smashed down again, striking his left stump.

The newly grown flesh was crushed into pulp, tearing the surrounding skin and splattering blood across his face.

He was never a combat-type demon.

His speed and strength lagged behind the Upper Moons, and even some melee Lower Moons.

In the past, he could toy with prey using hypnosis—but now, stripped of his abilities, he was nothing more than a lamb before the Stone Hashira.

‘Amida Buddha…’

The Stone Hashira intoned a Buddhist prayer, tears still wet on his face, but his actions merciless.

The Meteor Hammer whistled through the air again, this time aiming for Yan Meng’s skull.

Terror-stricken, Yan Meng scrambled backward, trying to use the sleeping passengers as cover.

He hid behind a fat merchant, watching the Stone Hashira approach.

Dark thoughts filled his mind.

If the Stone Hashira hesitated even a little, Yan Meng might have a chance…

The Stone Hashira’s movement did pause—but only for a moment.

He twisted his wrist, sending the Meteor Hammer’s Chain looping around the human shield.

The hammerhead grazed Yan Meng’s shoulder as it crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust that stung his eyes.

Then, the Stone Hashira strode forward, pushing through the gaps in the crowd, his oppressive aura only growing stronger.

Yan Meng could do nothing but dart through the crowd like a stray dog.

The blade of the Great Axe slashed across him, leaving a long, bloody gash that exposed pale bone.

He could even feel the cold wind from the axe’s edge brush his neck, sending chills down his spine.

On a level Yan Meng couldn’t perceive, Shi Hanfeng and the Bladesoul Spirit stood side by side, watching the one-sided slaughter.

Shi Hanfeng stared at the farcical scene and couldn’t help turning to the blade spirit beside him.

Sunlight shone on the blade spirit’s silver-gray hair, casting a soft glow.

She rested her chin on one hand, watching Yan Meng’s desperate flight with an amused smile.

Watching Yan Meng being hounded by the simulated Stone Hashira, whose strength was even deliberately reduced, driven to despair.

Shi Hanfeng couldn’t help but sigh.

“You’re… really evil.”

She had specially simulated a Stone Hashira perfectly countering Yan Meng’s abilities, and then controlled the Stone Hashira’s strength to be just enough to overpower—but not instantly kill—Yan Meng, giving hope only to snuff it out again, subjecting him to relentless physical and mental torment.

Such precise malice—even he found it… uniquely impressive.

The blade spirit snorted, raised her hand, and smacked Shi Hanfeng’s back.

It wasn’t too hard or too soft.

She even rolled her sapphire-blue eyes, full of you’re not fooling anyone.

“Who are you calling evil?”

She crossed her arms, leaned in close to Shi Hanfeng’s ear, and teased:

“Wasn’t this all for your stupid plan? If not for wanting Muzan to believe that even Hashira have limits—and that it took extreme effort to defeat Lower Moon One under constraints—would I have to work so hard tweaking parameters?”

“In the end, you’re the one with the real twisted tastes. Watching the enemy dance between hope and despair—maybe you enjoy it deep down.”

Shi Hanfeng, caught, didn’t deny it. He just smiled.

He simply felt that precise torture was more useful than instant killing.

The more pathetic Yan Meng looked, the more convincing the information sent to Muzan would be, and the less wary Muzan would become of the Demon Slayer Corps.

He rubbed his not-at-all sore back, smiled, and changed the subject.

Watching Yan Meng struggling and growing increasingly desperate under the Stone Hashira’s attacks, he asked:

“Come to think of it, I’m curious—just how powerful can this Memory Space be?”

He realized that this strange space, formed by the joint effect of the Destiny Echo: Memory Crystal and the Bladesoul Spirit, seemed far more potent than he’d first imagined.

He ignored the Lower Moon One on the verge of becoming Yan Meng-chan under the Stone Hashira’s “playful” assault.

Shi Hanfeng began to discuss the potential uses of the space with the blade spirit.

To him, a space that could freely simulate environments—and even opponents with specific abilities and battle experience—was practically a low-tier version of a wish-fulfillment domain.

If he could draw enemies inside at will, it would be dimensional reduction—a way to solve countless problems.

The blade spirit raised an eyebrow, not answering immediately.

Instead, she snapped her fingers.

Two pale blue light patterns formed in the air, swiftly becoming two glasses of iced drinks.

Condensation beaded on the glass, one cup floating to Shi Hanfeng, the other to her own hand.

She took the straw between her lips and sank comfortably back into her beach chair.

“What are you thinking?”

She took a sip, the icy liquid sliding down her throat, eyes narrowing in contentment as a glint of satisfaction flashed in her blue gaze.

“This Memory Space can indeed simulate many things—from a single drink to combat units like the Stone Hashira. But there’s one condition: it must be from memory, from something you’ve experienced—not pure imagination.”

“I know what you’re thinking. I tried to materialize Yellow Springs here, too, but not even a bubble came up.”

“In essence, this is a sturdy fortress, not an offensive weapon. It’s your domain—but only within its limits.”

She absently rubbed the glass’s surface as she continued:

“It doesn’t have the power to actively invade or capture outside consciousness. Only when someone else launches a mental attack, consciousness intrusion, or—as in this case—tries to forcibly link with your mind, can I take advantage of the ‘bridge’ they’ve built to pull or trick part of their consciousness inside.”

The blade spirit waggled her small hand.

“In other words, this space is fundamentally defensive—a beefed-up mental counterattack. Its greatest use is patching up your weaknesses: mental defenses. Trying to use it to actively trap others? The requirements are extremely strict.”

Shi Hanfeng accepted the drink, fingers brushing the cool glass.

He stared into the amber liquid, thoughtful.

“So it’s defensive. Its main function is blocking others’ mental attacks—hypnosis, illusions, things like that?”

“More or less.”

The blade spirit nodded and took another sip, a faint smile on her lips.

“But that’s already pretty good. Think about it: if you run into a demon like Yan Meng—specializing in mental attacks—or any other enemy capable of affecting consciousness, with this space, you don’t need to fear sneak attacks. It’s like giving your mind a bulletproof vest—isn’t that enough?”

Shi Hanfeng smiled, tipping his head back to drink, letting the sweet taste fill his mouth.

It was true.

When he first exchanged for the Destiny Echo: Memory Crystal, it was only to assimilate Rakshasa’s template—he’d never expected it would spawn a Memory Space like this.

Originally, he’d worried his mental defenses were weak and he’d suffer against psychic enemies.

Now, with this space, it was like having a second layer of protection.

People should know when to be content.

“True. Better to have it than not.”

He set down his glass and looked back toward the battlefield.

By now, Yan Meng had completely lost the will to fight.

His left stump had been smashed at least five times—each time a bit of flesh regenerated, the Stone Hashira’s Meteor Hammer precisely shattered it again.

The skin around the wound had turned purple-black, even the speed of regeneration slowing.

His clothes were torn and ragged, bruises and wounds covering his body, his face streaked with blood and dust.

The once twisted, pleased smile had vanished, replaced only by fear and despair.

He no longer even dared try to regenerate his left hand, only clutching his head as he ran aimlessly through the sleeping crowd.

“All right, time’s up.”

The blade spirit glanced at the battlefield.

That poor Lower Moon One was about to be hammered into true Yan Meng-chan by the tireless Stone Hashira.

She spread her hands in a resigned gesture, signaling Shi Hanfeng.

“Your turn to wrap this up, Master. If you keep playing, it’ll be hard to explain the battle log’s intensity.”

Shi Hanfeng understood.

With a thought, he took control of the simulated Stone Hashira.

In the distance, the Stone Hashira’s motion paused.

The Meteor Hammer—mid-swing toward Yan Meng—froze, then shifted position.

The Chain tightened with a snap, and the hammerhead, whistling fiercely, slammed toward Yan Meng’s back.

Yan Meng was still fleeing, oblivious to the change.

Only when the hammer loomed over his head did he feel a chill of death.

Too late.

“Thud—”

The hammer struck Yan Meng with a crisp crack.

Meteor Hammer and skull rang together.

[Killed Lower Moon One: Yan Meng]

[Obtained: Gold Coin ×10]

[Obtained: Dream Essence ×1]

The cold system prompt echoed in Shi Hanfeng’s mind, announcing the utter death of a Lower Moon.

Yan Meng’s twisted dreams and pleasure faded into nothingness.

He watched Yan Meng’s body crumble into strands of black ash, scattered by the sea wind within the Memory Space, then vanish.

The blade spirit stood up, walked to his side, and gazed at the empty beach, lips curling in a faint smile.

“Done. Now, the false information that a Lower Moon encountered a Hashira, held out for a long time despite being countered, and barely killed the opponent, should have reached Muzan. Let’s hope that shameless boss isn’t too angry—after all, he’s lost another useful subordinate.”

Shi Hanfeng smiled and nodded.

Underestimation is the best disguise.

And anger makes one lose reason.

Whether Muzan continued to underestimate, or raged over the loss of a Lower Moon, for Shi Hanfeng’s plans, neither was a bad outcome.

To catch big fish, you need patience and tempting bait.

“Want to see the gift of nature now?”

Shi Hanfeng took out the items contributed by Yan Meng and waved them at the blade spirit.

A bottle of shimmering powder—like stardust—glowed softly in his hand.