Chapter 700 – Dreamweaver World 38

“Groot?”

The shadow on the door suddenly twisted and warped, stretching like melting asphalt. A pitch-black “hand” reached out and snatched the letter of introduction from Mo Lan’s grasp.

The envelope made a soft rustling sound in the shadow’s hand, as if being crumpled by an invisible force.

“Hmph… That bastard Groot’s stench — I can smell it right through the envelope!”

The shadow grumbled reluctantly, “Come in, green-skinned girl!”

With a drawn-out creak, the heavy wooden door slowly swung inward.

Mo Lan had just lifted her foot to step inside when she noticed something rising from the center of her own shadow on the ground. An old woman draped in a black cloth cloak emerged from Mo Lan’s shadow, her withered fingers gripping a rough stone walking stick.

Without looking back, the old woman walked into the house, her stone stick striking the ground with dull thuds.

Mo Lan stood frozen in place. Matina added fiercely, “Don’t step on the shadow bugs on the threshold! Their mood today is just as foul as mine!”

Mo Lan swallowed hard and carefully stepped over the threshold, deliberately avoiding the little creatures squirming in the threshold’s shadow.

They looked like clumps of moss that could move — presumably the shadow bugs Matina had mentioned.

The interior wasn’t nearly as dark and terrifying as she had imagined.

The cave walls were coated with a layer of fine yellow clay, their surfaces painted with simple geometric patterns in mineral pigments.

A sun-dried bull skull hung on the wall, its horns entwined with carefully preserved dried flowers. The pale purple petals had faded, yet still gave off a faint, lingering fragrance.

Orange-red flames danced in the fireplace, casting a warm glow across the entire room.

Above the fire sat a black iron teapot, its spout bubbling and releasing wisps of steam.

Matina settled leisurely into the rocking chair by the fireplace, her withered fingers moving with surprising dexterity as she tore open the envelope.

The flickering firelight cast her silhouette onto the wall, where the shadow resembled a restless black hillock — its edges constantly writhing, swelling and contracting by turns, forming a stark contrast with Matina’s quiet, seated posture.

While Matina herself was focused on reading the letter, her shadow was excessively active.

It kept stretching out its “arms” to poke at the firewood in the hearth, sending sparks crackling and popping. Then it suddenly turned toward Mo Lan, extending shadow tendrils to grab her shadow and drag it toward the low stool in front of the fireplace.

For the first time, Mo Lan truly experienced the bizarre sensation of her shadow pulling her body — as though countless fine threads were wound around her limbs, guiding her movements with gentle yet irresistible force.

She instinctively tensed her muscles and focused her mind to resist the invisible pull.

With just a slight channeling of psychic power, she steadied herself.

At that very instant, Matina let out a soft “oh?” of surprise, looking up from the letter. She studied Mo Lan carefully with those obsidian-like eyes of hers, though she said nothing more.

“Sit down!” Her tone remained brusque. “If you don’t sit now, you might not get the chance once I’ve finished reading this letter.”

The shadow on the wall cooperatively performed a threatening stretching motion.

Only then did Mo Lan walk over and sit on the low stool assembled from animal vertebrae.

The animal hide covering the stool’s surface was unexpectedly soft and warm, carrying the scent of sun-dried air.

Matina buried herself in the letter again, while her shadow took a keen interest in Mo Lan’s shadow.

Sometimes it transformed into slender tendrils to poke and prod at Mo Lan’s shadow; other times it shifted into jagged edges that overlapped with it, like a mischievous child playing shadow puppets.

The shadows of other objects in the room were even more lively. The teapot’s shadow poured itself tea on the wall and drank it; the broom’s shadow danced a comical jig; even the shadow of the withered plant in the corner was stretching out its “branches and leaves” all on its own.

“Hmph, that old codger Groot…” Matina suddenly spoke up.

Before she could finish, the shadow on the wall abruptly opened its mouth wide and said in a shrill, exaggerated voice, “Hmph~ that old codger Groot~”

It formed a sharp contrast with Matina’s hoarse, deep voice.

Mo Lan pressed her lips together, terrified of laughing out loud and angering Matina.

Matina’s brow furrowed. She plunged her hand directly into her own shadow and pulled out a dark, amorphous blob, kneaded it vigorously a few times, then flung it far into the shadows in a cabinet corner. Faint, theatrical sobbing sounds drifted from that direction.

Matina suddenly struck the ground hard with her stone stick, producing a deep thud that startled Mo Lan out of her fascinated observation.

“Hand it over!” The old woman extended a wrinkled hand, palm up, fingers beckoning impatiently.

“???” Mo Lan’s face was blank with confusion, her green-skinned cheeks turning slightly blue-green with bewilderment. She already had a bad feeling about this. “What?”

Matina gave a cold snort and flung the letter straight at her.

The bark-paper letter traced an arc through the air, and Mo Lan scrambled to catch it.

She hurriedly unfolded the letter, and Old Groot’s familiar scrawl immediately caught her eye:

“Old hag:

This girl has decent potential and quite a bit of assets. She’s just a little greedy — learning our Transfiguration wasn’t enough for her; she also wants to convert to the Shadow Tribe and learn your shadow magic. Help guide her along, and feel free to charge her whatever tuition you like!

I know your brain isn’t as sharp as mine and you’re not as good at making money, but for the sake of our long acquaintance and the fact that we both have to worry about our people, I’m referring this business to you! Don’t mess it up.

But don’t charge too much either — two dream crystal coins at the most! Our village’s Transfiguration classes only cost her two dream crystal coins for unlimited attendance. With just you giving her one-on-one instruction, earning one dream crystal coin would be plenty.

If you dare overcharge, I’ll…”

After the last sentence, there was a crude doodle — a stick figure kicking another stick figure into a river.

The corner of Mo Lan’s mouth twitched. Even without understanding the exact meaning of the doodle, she could sense the unmistakable threat behind it. Was this a letter of introduction or a threatening letter?!

“That old bastard…” Matina muttered through gritted teeth. The shadow on the wall suddenly surged upward, twisting furiously into a shape of bared fangs and brandished claws. “Thirty years, and he still has the same rotten attitude!”

Mo Lan nodded vigorously, silently regretting everything. Had she known Old Groot’s letter of introduction would be like this, she never would have worked so hard to provoke the dream citizens of Greenwood Village into bettering themselves during class.

“Hand it over!” Matina whipped her head around, her sharp gaze scraping across Mo Lan’s face like a blade.

Mo Lan was taken aback and ventured tentatively, “You’re still willing to let me study shadow magic under you?”

Given Matina’s reputation online, she would have counted herself lucky if the old woman hadn’t tampered with her shadow — yet here she was, actually preparing to charge tuition and teach her?

This was far more agreeable than she had imagined.

Where exactly had things diverged from expectations? Could the information on the forums all have been false?