The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

Lin Zheng slumped onto the blood-stained floor, his body feeling as if all his strength had been drained by an invisible giant hand. Every muscle was twitching slightly, and a wave of soreness surged from his limbs to his brain. It felt as if countless fine needles were repeatedly churning deep within his bone marrow.

Cold sweat poured down his forehead and temples like a stream, soaking his collar. The sticky, damp feeling made him shiver involuntarily, and a layer of fine goosebumps rose on his skin. Sweat mixed with blood smudges slid down his cheeks and dripped into the filthy pool on the floor with a soft sizzling sound.

He had just struggled to pull himself out of Percy's mental connection, and the lingering echoes of being swallowed by endless darkness and countless shrill screams still lingered in his mind, as if countless ghostly fingers were scratching at the depths of his soul, each heartbeat bringing a faint, painful echo.

The air was thick with a pungent, putrid stench, mixed with the eerie, sweet-smelling smell unique to mental pollution. It felt as if countless tiny tentacles were wriggling and probing inside the nasal cavity, making one want to vomit. With each breath, the lungs felt as if they were wrapped in an invisible mucous membrane, making it almost suffocating.

His chest heaved violently, each breath carrying a metallic, rusty smell, as if his lungs had been repeatedly scratched by rusted iron filings. When he coughed, wisps of bloody foam welled up in his throat, and warm liquid dripped down his chin, staining his clothes red.

Evelyn knelt beside him, her slender fingers gripping the scalpel tightly. The blade gleamed coldly in the dim light of the clinic, reflecting the unease and barely suppressed fear in her eyes. Her breathing was slightly rapid, and her chest heaved.

Her face was deathly pale, like an old, yellowed medical record. Her knuckles were bluish-white from the excessive force, and even faint traces of blood were seeping out, showing her extreme tension and struggle against the unknown. Her gaze kept sweeping over Percy's body, as if trying to convince herself that it was all just an illusion.

She suppressed her fear and nausea, her gaze fixed on Percy on the operating table. Everything there was completely beyond her medical understanding as a military doctor, challenging her entire knowledge of the world. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the scalpel handle.

Outside the door, Frederick peered cautiously through the narrow crack. His figure cast a long, distorted shadow under the dim, flickering oil lamp in the corridor, like a lone wolf in the wilderness. His shoulders were slightly hunched, revealing his long-standing instinct for vigilance.

The guards on the outer perimeter whispered uneasily. They wore tattered military uniforms, the fabric of which was covered with dried bloodstains, dust, and unidentified filth. They carried old, rusted rifles, with dried bits of meat and sand even hanging from the barrels, and the metal surfaces were covered with pits and corrosion marks.

The guards had rugged and weary faces, with deep-set eyes like dark caverns and tangled, messy beards. They looked as wary and fierce as wild dogs that had long survived the harsh winds and sands of the wilderness. Their eyes gleamed with a beastly light in the dim light, and they would occasionally wipe the dirt off their gun barrels with their sleeves.

Their whispers came in short, broken bursts, like sand rubbing together in the wind: "The lord has fallen ill again. This time it's probably bad. The doctor's face is as white as a ghost." "The runes are glowing. Could it be that thing is about to come out? Those shadows are moving again." "Last time it devoured three brothers. Who knows what will happen this time?"

Suddenly, Percy's semi-conscious body on the operating table convulsed violently, as if something living inside him was struggling and tearing at him, trying to break free. The metal frame of the operating table creaked and groaned, the screws loosened and rattled, and the instruments on the table clattered and slid off.

He awoke, letting out a beast-like roar, deep and piercing, which shook the glassware in the examination room, causing it to shatter slightly. The glass shards reflected the blue light of the runes like scattered stars.

The ancient runes on the walls of the clinic began to glow faintly, and an eerie pale blue light traveled across the walls like veins, illuminating the cracks and mold in the corners. A musty, sacrificial scent filled the air, as if the lingering effects of a blood sacrifice from a thousand years ago were being revived.

The shadows writhed like living creatures, extending slender black tentacles from the cracks in the wall, greedily reaching for the spiritual remnants permeating the air, emitting a faint hissing sound of devouring. The tentacles, covered with tiny barbs, twitched and curled as they swallowed.

Lin Zheng struggled to his feet, his knees buckling as he stood up. The bloodstains on the floor clung to his trousers, making a wet, tearing sound. He whispered to Evelyn, explaining the diagnosis he had just gleaned, his voice hoarse like sandpaper, each word laced with the pain in his chest.

"It's not an ordinary tumor in Percy's body; it's a living, wriggling nightmare creation that parasitizes and erodes with the structure of ancient sacrificial runes, which penetrate deep into his bone marrow like roots."

His voice trembled slightly, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, and the runes in his mind still flashed, burning his retina like a brand.

Evelyn nodded, a hint of determination and curiosity flashing in her eyes. She hurriedly got up and sealed the heavy iron door of the clinic, pushing and pulling with both arms, her muscles tense, sweat sliding down her arms.

The iron bolt slammed down with a dull thud, like a coffin lid closing, echoing in the narrow space. The footsteps of the guards outside paused abruptly, and curses could be faintly heard.

Lin Zheng took a deep breath and forced himself to activate his mental re-correction skill. The chaotic information in his mind surged like a raging tide, and he formatted and sorted it little by little. The veins on his forehead bulged like earthworms crawling, and blood seeped faintly from his temples.

Fragmented memories cut like a sharp blade, painful screams pierce the eardrums like needles, and the curved lines of runes burn like a branding iron. Everything gradually becomes clear, but it also brings a deeper sense of bone-deep exhaustion, as if the soul is being repeatedly crushed.

Percy's eyes suddenly turned fanatical and twisted. He stretched out his arm, which was covered with bulging veins and had rough hands, and grabbed Lin Zheng's sleeve. His nails dug deep into the fabric, causing a stinging pain, and his palm was as hot as a branding iron.

"Heal me... and all the information is yours! The map of the Ochre Labyrinth, the secrets of the Sacrificial Grounds—it's all yours!"

His voice was like a low growl crawling out of the abyss of hell, the red light in his iris flickered erratically like a blood bead about to burst, and a twisted, savage grin stretched across his lips, revealing his blackened gums.

Frederick slammed the alarm outside. The shrill, urgent sound echoed throughout the corridor, like the howls of wolves tearing through the night sky. The guards' curses and footsteps mingled in a chaotic cacophony, and the clanging of metal was as dense as a torrential downpour.

He shouted to disperse the outer guards, "Everyone retreat! Seal off the area! Don't let the warlords' dog noses smell it!" His hoarse, urgent voice echoed outside the iron gate.

Lin Zheng hesitated for a moment. The risk of exposing his abilities was like a sword of Damocles hanging over his head, but Percy's threat was approaching like a storm. He decided to reveal more details of the broken dream in order to persuade the half-mad lord to cooperate. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"Fragments of a broken dream reveal that the structure of that creation closely resembles ancient sacrificial runes, rooted in your childhood trauma and thirst for power, with pebbles on the muddy altar shimmering with an eerie light."

Percy roared in response, his voice deafening like thunder. The guards outside the door began to panic and scatter, the clanging of rusty rifles mingling with low prayers.

Lin Zheng gently touched the sick body on Paci's chest with his fingers. The skin was cold and slippery, like touching a rotten and juicy fruit. There was a faint pulse on the surface, and the subtle wriggling under the touch was like a heartbeat transmitted to his fingertips.

My mind was instantly pulled to the edge of a broken dream. Blurred and painful images surged in like a flood bursting its banks, accompanied by excruciating pain like being stabbed by a thousand needles. In my vision, flesh and blood twisted into an abstract vortex of runes.

The creation within Percy suddenly backfired, a sharp shriek piercing the depths of Lin Zheng's consciousness. He groaned, veins bulging on his forehead, his teeth clenching so tightly they made a grinding sound, and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

Evelyn reacted swiftly, as if by reflex, grabbing the syringe to inject the powerful sedative. The needle tip precisely pierced the Parsi vein, her movements as skilled as a veteran surgeon performing a rescue on the battlefield, accompanied by the gurgling sound of tiny bubbles as the liquid was injected.

The clear, viscous liquid was slowly pushed in, and Parcy's spasms eased slightly, but a clear, audible wriggling sound could still be heard under her skin, like countless insects gnawing at her internal organs, and her skin surface rippled slightly.

Lin Zheng took three deep breaths, his chest heaving like a bellows, to steady his shaky mind. He activated his Dream Anatomy skill, and his eyes suddenly brightened, as if two ghostly blue flames had been lit, his pupils dilating to reflect the dark purple veins.

In the field of vision, the twisted weakness of Parcy's chest cavity was highlighted, with structural lines intertwined like a spider web, pulsating with an eerie black and purple light, and faintly visible runes embedded in the flesh, moving like living tattoos.

Frederick stood guard behind the iron gate, whispering a warning to the outside intelligence: "The warlord scouts are approaching the ruins. The engines of their sandworm vehicles can be heard, low and guttural like the panting of a wild beast."

His voice was very low, his hand holding the gun trembled slightly, and sweat slid down the handle of the gun, dripping onto the floor and forming small puddles.

Lin Zheng began to describe in detail what he saw during his first contact: "The diseased body wriggles like a living tumor, its surface covered with tiny mouthparts. Fragments of a broken dream show your childhood sacrificial site, a muddy altar of flesh and blood, where you, as a child, knelt and worshipped, with fresh blood seeping from the altar like a flowing spring."

In the video, young Percy kneels on a muddy sacrificial ground, surrounded by pebbles that shimmer with an eerie light. Blood seeps from the altar like a living spring, and the child's face is contorted between ecstasy and fear as he trembles as he picks up a pebble.

Evelyn scribbled data rapidly, her pen scratching on the yellowed paper, the ink spreading into irregular spots. Her breathing was slightly rapid, and her eyes showed a thirst for knowledge overcoming fear.

"This completely defies scientific explanation, Dr. Lin. Are you sure it's not caused by mass hallucinations or neurotoxins? Those rune frequencies... the instruments are malfunctioning."

Her voice carried a professional skepticism, yet also revealed a strong thirst for knowledge about the unknown. Her eyes gleamed, and her fingers, gripping the pen, turned slightly white.

Lin Zheng cautiously explained the mechanism of the Golden Finger, avoiding revealing everything: "Through physical contact, I can read residual emotional memories and nightmare imprints, like dissecting a living dream remnant, where trauma exposes its structure like a wound."

Percy's spasms suddenly intensified, his entire body tensed to its limit like a bowstring, cracking sounds came from his joints, and the grinding of his bones was clearly audible.

The body began to show signs of abnormality, with glistening blood blisters swelling and wriggling on the skin's surface like maggot eggs, and fine filaments could be vaguely seen moving inside, pulling at the skin fibers.

Blood blisters burst one after another, and pus seeped out with a burnt and rotten smell, splashing onto the operating table with a sizzling sound, corroding and producing wisps of white smoke, within which distorted human faces appeared as phantoms.

Lin Zheng gritted his teeth and delved deeper into the lingering dream, where more fragmented pieces swept over him like a storm: Percy's childhood was tormented by endless illness, his frail body trembling in the cold wind, the allure of the sacrificial stones like a curse, and the whispered promises of power from the three-tiered, curved runes.

His thirst for power began to emerge, the twisted triple runes tempting him like poison to devour the gifts of darkness, his personality began to disintegrate, and two voices argued endlessly in his mind, one good and one evil in a tug-of-war.

The sound of flesh rubbing and writhing beneath the skin was wet and grating, like countless insects gnawing at bone marrow. The low, resonant creaking echoed throughout the clinic, sending chills down one's spine. The stench intensified in the air, like solid fog.

Lin Zheng barely managed to pull himself out of the lingering dream, his face as pale as a corpse, sweat mixed with blood sliding down his face and dripping to the ground, his vision blurring and swaying at the edges.

In Percy's childhood dream, the patterns on the sacrificial pebbles clearly appeared, with the curved triple runes pulsating with a blackish-purple luster, strikingly similar to Samantha Jones' pebbles. Brutus was once fascinated by this and studied it. The cracks on the surface of the pebbles resembled blood vessels.

Lin Zheng murmured to himself, his voice weak, "The nightmare creations unique to the Ochre Maze State point directly to that sacrificial site, surrounded by stone pillars at the eastern entrance."

Upon hearing this, Frederick's face changed drastically as if he had seen a ghost. He took a step back, gripped the rifle handle tightly, and his knuckles turned white. "That place... the source of the curse. Most mercenaries who go in turn become flesh puppets, and when they come out, their eyes are empty and filled only with hunger."

The creation within Percy's body became active, and signs of aberration began to appear. His chest swelled as if a giant monster was being conceived, his skin stretched to translucent, his blood vessels coiled like black vines, and the shadowy figures inside churned like a school of fish.

The air in the clinic grew increasingly thick and viscous, the stench of pollution pressing on the lungs like a physical force. Every breath felt like swallowing mud, and the throat felt as dry as sandpaper.

Lin Zheng felt a slight loss of his rationality, a dull pain like spider silk tearing, but he also noticed a slight increase in his proficiency in dream anatomy, and an unknown potential awakening and wriggling deep in his consciousness, like a dormant young beast.

The whispers of the outer guards faded into the distance, their voices filled with fear: "The lord has fallen ill again. Will the doctor be able to handle it this time? The runes are glowing eerily bright, and shadows are crawling on the walls."

Their footsteps retreated in disarray, the clanging of rusted rifles grew fainter, the lingering sound of the alarm bells echoed like ghostly wails, and sand and dust seeped in through the cracks in the door.

Evelyn wiped the scalpel; the bloodstains on the blade reflected a crimson light under the lamp. "We need more samples and data, Dr. Lin. Shall we continue? The risk is too high."

Lin Zheng nodded, his fingers tapping the floor unconsciously, mimicking the act of stitching. He recalled that the dead are much more honest than the living; the cold corpses never retaliate, leaving only the silent truth.

Percy gasped for breath, his prosthetic eye flashing red light erratically, like the last fierce glint of a dying beast. "Continue... Doctors, don't stop. I feel it awakening, the darkness is calling."

Frederick pushed open the door and entered. The scraping sound of the iron door against the ground was deafening. "It's safe for now, but the shadow of the warlords is getting closer and closer. Their flags are visible in the dust, and the sun shines like a knife through the sandworm's shell."

His gaze darted around, scanning the darkening runes on the wall. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and beads of sweat slid down his nose.

The shadow slowly receded into the crack in the corner of the wall, disappearing like the tide, leaving behind sticky dampness and a faint fishy smell, and twisted scratches like claw marks on the wall.

Lin Zheng recalled the blood sacrifice customs of the Red Soil Throat Farm, where blood flowed like rivers to irrigate the barren land, awakening secondary existences. Crop roots entwined with white bones, turning into fertilizer. The price of a bountiful harvest was an endless cycle of vengeful spirits' thirst, and the fields whispered like the cries of infants at night.

The distortion of Percy is connected to the earth runes, as if a hidden energy bridge is drawing nourishment from the decaying wasteland, its pulsating sound faintly audible, resonating with the underground sand flow.

The Rusty Gospel mining area is even more terrifying. Otherworldly ores corrupt the miners' souls, and opioids accelerate the metallization process of flesh and blood. The miners are transformed into flesh-and-metal monsters, with rust oozing from their joints, roaring as they dig deeper into taboos. The echoes in the mine are like mechanical prayers.

The flesh-and-blood capital alliance monopolizes the entire supply chain. Rusty transport lines carry deformed parts to the port's Gundam district, where mechanical statues are cast and worshipped, with steam and blood mist permeating the ceremony.

Samantha Jones's pebble responded to the crescent moon triple rune, serving as a navigation tool for the sacrificial site. The eastern entrance was clearly marked on the rough map, and when the pebble was placed in the center, it resonated to guide the hidden path, with phantom stone pillars emerging amidst the hum.

In Percy's childhood dream, the patterns on the pebble perfectly overlapped with his own. The child's hand tightly gripped the pebble, and drops of blood activated the runes. Darkness surged into his body like a spring, and the child's eyes changed from innocence to fanaticism.

Lin Zheng took out Samantha Jones's pebble from his pocket. Its surface was rough and covered with cracks, and it faintly emitted a warm temperature like that of a living being. When his fingertips touched it, a subtle vibration was transmitted.

He gently placed the pebble on Parcy's ailing chest. Instantly, the pebble heated up and pulsated, resonating intensely with the patterns within the body, producing a deep hum like a swarm of bees rising from their hive, causing the glassware to jingle.

The air twisted and deformed, and space seemed to be stirred by invisible ripples. Evelyn recorded resonance data, her hands trembling slightly, the instrument pointer jumping wildly, and the waveforms on the screen reappeared like runes.

"This goes beyond the scope of physiology... The frequency is perfectly synchronized with the brain waves, and it even affects the magnetic field in the examination room, causing the compass to spin erratically."

Frederick added in a low voice to the local wasteland legend, "At the eastern entrance of the sacrificial site, the stone pillars are carved with crescent moon runes. Those who go in rarely return, and those who come out are no longer human, their bodies growing extra limbs that wriggle around."

The patrolling guards on the outer perimeter walked with heavy footsteps, the clanging of rusty rifles echoing incessantly, mixed with low curses and the friction of sand and dust. The wind and sand poured in from the ventilation vents, swirling up swirls of blood and dust.

Percy growled, his voice broken and fragmented, "The earth sacrifice... gave me power, but it will also devour my life... Doctor, save me! It's laughing, laughing in my mind!"

His prosthetic eye burst forth with a blinding red light, his chest throbbed more violently, and dark shadows could be seen churning beneath his skin, like ink spreading in water.

Lin Zheng decided to deepen the mental connection, closed his eyes and pulled into the remnant dream of Percy's childhood sacrificial site. His consciousness plummeted into an abyss, and in the darkness, the altar steps were clear, and the blood pool bubbled.

The blurry image rapidly sharpened: in the center of the muddy altar, stone runes shimmered with eerie light, the child Percy knelt and devoured the gifts of darkness, blood staining the soil, and the shadows behind him coalesced into a blurry humanoid whisper.

Sensing the intruder, the creation within him unleashed a devastating backlash. A mental storm, like a hurricane, tore through the depths of Lin Zheng's consciousness, with countless black and purple tentacles whose barbs hooked onto fragments of his soul.

Black and purple tentacles coiled around the soul from the void, piercing through all defenses with a shrill cry. The pain was like a thousand swords piercing the heart, and vision shattered into blood-red fragments.

Lin Zheng let out a muffled roar as blood gushed from his nose and ears, his vision shattered into countless fragments, and his body collapsed to the ground, convulsing and spasming.

Evelyn cried out in alarm and rushed forward to check on him. Frederick burst through the door, and the runes in the clinic flashed wildly like a thunderstorm, the blue light blinding.

The shadows resurfaced like a tide, Pasi's laughter twisted and contorted, the distortion accelerated to its extreme, black blood seeped from a crack in his chest cavity, and the suspense of the chapter reached its peak.

Lin Zheng's rationality wavered in the storm, and the flame of his potential awakening appeared, but at the cost of both flesh and soul, the runes in his mind were permanently branded.

Whispers of the wasteland begin to rise, the nightmare is fully awakened, and the bizarre storm is just beginning, with the roar of engines approaching from outside the door.

Outside the clinic, the wind and sand howled, the engines of warlord scouts roared as they approached, the wasteland pulsed with an insatiable thirst, and flags fluttered like blood-red sails in the dust.