The dream world’s starry expanse was a tapestry unlike the cosmic sea of reality. While it lacked the profound antiquity of the universe, it possessed its own unique, ethereal beauty.

If the cosmic sea of stars was an ancient myth, then the dream sea of stars was a fantastical fairy tale.

The Dream Spirit floated freely in the uppermost layer of the dream starry sea, circling around the dream moon, reading one dream after another.

The dreams in the highest layer were the newly born ones.

This meant these dreams were still connected to the Trilobite Men, ongoing dreams.

She prepared to meet some people in the dreams, seeking answers.

Soon, she found the person she wanted to see.

The Dream Spirit entered this dream and met Stan Tito within it.

Stan’s dream took the form of an ancient stone palace, its walls a mosaic of inscribed tablets, each pillar a canvas of intricate poetry.

Stan crouched beneath a wall, his tools etching verses into the unyielding stone.

Unfortunately, he was just a craftsman, not a poet.

He could only carve others’ poems over and over, telling stories that weren’t his own.

The Dream Spirit approached him: “Lucky one who found ‘Tito’s Travelogue’? Was it you who started this conflict?”

Stan Tito turned around and saw Dream Spirit Hila.

“They say I’m the one chosen by fate, but I don’t really know if that’s true.”

“But if that’s true,” Stan continued, “then it’s not me who stirred up the conflict, but fate itself.”

Hila looked at Stan, feeling that what she saw wasn’t a living person, but more like a marionette.

Despite inheriting the Tito family’s title and the prestige of a saint’s lineage, Stan seemed to lack any true sense of self.

He could only let others manipulate his fate.

“Once, your ancestor Tito came to the temple, offering his devotion and poetry to God.”

“God asked him, ‘Do you still believe in fate?'”

Stan Tito stood up and asked the Dream Spirit.

“How did the great poet answer?”

Hila told him: “He said, fate is in our hands.”

“I no longer wait for fate to descend upon me, but create my own destiny with my own hands.”

Stan Tito was thunderstruck upon hearing this, then fell into deep thought.

But in the instant he began to ponder, the dream was suddenly interrupted.

Hila left Stan Tito’s dream. She flew along the dream moon and soon found another person’s dream nearby.

This Trilobite Man’s dream was completely different from Stan’s. Her dream was of the Sacred Mountain in the God-Servant City, but unlike reality, a gate to the dream world had opened in the sky above the Sacred Mountain.

She rode the Sky Beast, leading many people towards the gate in the sky, hoping to enter the realm of God from there.

This person was the Star Luo Queen.

The Star Luo Queen soared higher and higher, her determination unwavering!

She felt she could never get close to God’s hall, as if deep in her heart, she didn’t believe she could meet God.

As she grew increasingly anxious, a voice came from behind her.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What exactly do you want to achieve?”

The Star Luo Queen turned back and answered, somewhat bewildered.

“We just want to get a response from God.”

“We just…”

“Want to go home!”

The Dream Spirit pondered this, then left the dream again.

In the dead of night.

In two different rooms in the God-Servant City, two figures awoke from their dreams, one after the other.

The Star Luo Queen rose from her stone bed and quickly walked outside.

She looked around between the corridors, as if searching for someone’s shadow.

“What kind of dream did I just have?”

“There was a person in the dream, a woman.”

“No, she wasn’t a person.”

“Who exactly was she?”

On the other side.

Stan Tito, suddenly awake, stared blankly: “Just now, someone seemed to tell me something important? The great poet Tito and God in conversation.”

“No!” Stan exclaimed. “How could I possibly dream of this?”

They both vaguely remembered the scenes from their dreams.

This was because only completed dreams remain in the dream world.

These dreams, interrupted halfway or disturbed by others, would dissipate in the dream world, which is why Trilobite Men sometimes remember their dream memories upon waking—

Yin Shen looked at the Dream Spirit kneeling before him, knowing her thoughts before she spoke.

“You still want to give the power of dreams to the Trilobite Men.”

“Is that so?”

Dream Spirit Hila knew she couldn’t hide her thoughts and intentions from the great God, nor had she ever tried to.

“God,” Hila pleaded, “You need to strengthen the dream world, and the Trilobite Men need the power of dreams and Your guidance.”

“Perhaps this way, we can change the Trilobite Men’s civilization.”

“And You could descend upon this world sooner,” she added hopefully.

Yin Shen remained impassive, unconcerned with the pace of events. He sought only effective methods and avoided unnecessary actions or unexpected changes.

Yin Shen: “Are you doing all this just to make up for your mistake?”

Dream Spirit Hila lowered her head, questioning her heart.

After thinking for a while, she suddenly smiled.

She looked at God, smiling as she spoke.

“Not just that, actually, I’m also afraid.”

God: “Afraid of what?”

The Dream Spirit spoke of the time when Yin Shen had once slept for several hundred years: “God,” Hila said softly, “do You know how long time truly is?”

“Two hundred years for You is just the blink of an eye.”

“Time before You is like a gentle breeze passing through fingers, but for us, it’s like a roaring, surging wave.”

The spirit looked up at Yin Shen, her eyes curving into a smile.

“Two hundred years for Hila is a significant portion of a lifetime.”

“During that long period…”

“I could only wander in front of the temple again and again, waiting and hoping for Your awakening.”

“I worry that I’ll keep waiting, and by the time You wake up next, I will have already faded away in time.”

After saying this, the Dream Spirit immediately negated it, then switched to a more affirmative tone.

“No!”

“It’s not worry, it’s something that’s destined to happen.”

The Dream Spirit lowered her head, clasping her hands together.

“God,” Hila began, “You once said that for the stars, the rise and fall of civilizations is but a brief moment.”

“The birth and death of life is even more insignificant, just a glance.”

“I often wonder,” Hila mused, “in the time that I’m destined to disappear, which is no more than a fleeting instant to You, could I leave some trace behind?”

“At least,” she pleaded, “in the years that I exist, let me do something for You!”

She stood up and walked to the base of the divine altar.

“God,” Hila said, her voice filled with longing, “I also want You to remember me.”

“Just like King Redlichia, and Lord Polo.”