Chapter 85: The Unknown Land (2) The Nightmare Jar

On this side, Zhao Tianhe had all his buffs refreshed, while on the other, the woman ghost in the painting finally revealed herself.

The painting was about one and a half meters tall and more than a meter wide—a considerable area. The woman ghost, who from a distance appeared of normal proportions, was now desperately twisting her shoulders to squeeze out of the canvas. Her true body must have exceeded five meters in height—a true giant.

Zhao Tianhe dared not let her emerge completely; her size clearly marked her as a power-type elite, likely able to shatter his protective spells with a single blow.

“Lightning Spark ×10!” Zhao Tianhe snapped his fingers. Years of cooking had doubled as spell practice, and his mastery of zero-level cantrips was now so refined that he could cast them in rapid succession without pause.

Ten bolts of thread-thin lightning leapt from his hand, crackling as they struck at the ghost. Yet as one spark left his fingertips, it suddenly swelled into a two-meter-long, wrist-thick spear of thunder.

The ghostly woman raised a hand to block the spear, but it pierced straight through her arm—this was a third-level spell, the strongest Zhao Tianhe could trigger passively.

Not only did the spear impale her arm, it exploded, sending arcs of lightning surging through her form, making her convulse uncontrollably.

A shrill, chilling scream tore from the ghost’s lips. Zhao Tianhe heard the wind howl past his ears and hurriedly retreated.

Crash!

A cascade of bowls, plates, knives, and forks crashed down where he’d just stood. He quickly looked toward the source of the attack.

On the wall hung a painting of a table—empty, nothing atop it.

The next instant, the table itself forced its way out of the frame, hurtling toward Zhao Tianhe!

At the same time, a dense canopy suddenly blocked his retreat. The trunk of a large tree, painted in another artwork, extended halfway out of its frame.

“Damn! You can do that too? Are you the boss?!” Zhao Tianhe exclaimed in disbelief, conjuring ten small black spheres in his hands.

These were first-level shadow curses, weakening resistances from all angles. The effects could stack, though with diminishing returns.

Because Zhao Tianhe always saw himself as a support player, he had practiced this combination repeatedly. Thanks to the Evil Cage’s power, he could now rapid-fire ten curses with ease. But first-level spells consumed significant energy, so his palm was now raw and bloody, making him wince.

Earlier, when casting protective and healing spells in quick succession, Zhao Tianhe had already realized that although his spellcasting required a physical toll, he could choose where to bear the cost. Naturally, he chose surface wounds first.

Ten curses landed, immediately triggering two advanced hexes: a second-level Perception Weakening and a third-level Damage Amplification.

He braced himself against the oncoming table, the skin on the back of his left hand splitting open into several bleeding gashes. Twenty Dishwashing Spells poured forth!

Though this creature looked like a ghost and likely boasted high shadow resistance, Zhao Tianhe’s combo spells made little distinction among monster types.

Among the twenty spells, a fourth-level Death Roar and a second-level Corrosion Orb burst forth.

A ring of dim light swept the room, toppling furniture and paintings from the walls, though the damage to the ghost was minimal.

A basketball-sized ball of negative energy struck the ghost’s face, making her wail as her shoulder dislocated with a violent twist—she was forced out of the painting!

“Die!” Zhao Tianhe unleashed another volley of twenty Dishwashing Spells, the fabric on his right sleeve soaking through with blood.

A burning black skull bit into the ghost’s neck and exploded with a roar—a fourth-level spell, the Skull of Demonic Energy.

The ghost’s head was blown apart, her upper garments and flesh sizzling under the negative flames.

Her huge, headless body collapsed, beginning to dissolve.

A faintly glowing dust appeared on the floor—Echo Dust, a skill-enhancing material for Aileen.

“Are C+-class elites really this strong?” Zhao Tianhe muttered, frowning. “If there were more than two, I’d probably have to risk serious injury to take them down…”

In truth, Zhao Tianhe misunderstood. While the overall power level of this dungeon wasn’t B-class, its scale was far below that of a true B-class dungeon, making it closer to a B- than a C+. The elite monsters here reached B-class strength, and as Geros had said, Zhao Tianhe could, at most, handle two B-class elites simultaneously.

With his abilities, survival was possible, but clearing the dungeon was a dream.

As the ghost dissipated, the entire room began to collapse and fade away.

Within minutes, Zhao Tianhe found himself in a vast, empty cavity—the passage he had entered from visible beyond.

At the far end of the cavern, a translucent jar was embedded in the wall.

Frowning, Zhao Tianhe approached and looked at the strange object, swallowing nervously.

“What on earth is this…”

Inside the jar, a short-haired little girl in a dress floated, eyes closed as if fast asleep. A metallic tube was connected to the back of her head, seemingly inserted into her skull…

Zhao Tianhe conjured a short sword and stabbed hard, but the jar was unharmed. Leaping up, he slashed at the metal tube, but it too remained untouched.

“No use, I can’t break this with my own strength. Buffing up is too unreliable, and random spells might hurt the child,” Zhao Tianhe sighed, shaking his head in resignation. “And if you’re wounded in a soul state, you’ll still die—I can feel that clearly enough.”

“Forget it. Even if I rescued her, what would I do with the child?” He sheathed his sword, ready to explore elsewhere. But after only a dozen steps, he found a low wall blocking his way.

“What’s this…” Zhao Tianhe looked around. Sure enough, the strange ghost’s room was reconstructing itself!

He turned to the odd jar, now being covered by the rebuilding walls. At the same time, his super-vision revealed something new—the little girl's eyelids were fluttering rapidly, her expression twisted in fear, her body trembling without pause.

“A nightmare? Then…”

Thinking back on everything in the previous room, Zhao Tianhe realized why everything was scaled as it was.

The ordinary yet oversized bed, the sparse furnishings—the perspective was that of a child, or rather, drawn from the subconscious.

He didn’t know the mechanics, but it was clear: this was a nightmare—a child’s nightmare.

The strange jar was using the child’s fear to manifest this space, turning it into a monster—the monster was the room itself.

“Afraid of that blurry-faced woman in the painting, are you? Hm… I think I was afraid of something like that as a kid, too. What was it…? I can’t remember.”

Rubbing his chin, Zhao Tianhe walked over to the bed and lay down, crossing his legs and staring at the painting. “This one isn’t so tough. I’ll farm you for a while.”