Each scene turned to liquid and slid down in sequence, the distorted imaginings of his life flashing for bare fractions of a second before disappearing into the past.

His knees hit the stone of the training grounds – smooth, hard, real beyond any doubt. His head throbbing with pain but otherwise clear, Lu's eyes went to the thing across from him.

It was Bull, but not Bull. The details were perfect, down to the smallest scar on his face, the loose threads where he had shortened the sleeves of his robe by hand – but still, some shadow of dream logic still told him: that was not his friend, no matter what it looked like.

“Lu,” the image of Bi Guanyin hissed as its hands rose, curling into fists. “All this time and still third realm? I must be slacking with your training; let’s fix that.” Amusement under a thin layer of mostly-feigned malice, it sounded exactly like the man himself.

A flash forward, strange and incongruous now that he was lucid, and a meaty fist dug into Lu’s side right under his ribs. Ack! Real, this is real! He tried to Space Ripper himself away, but whatever crooked hold the dream had on him held strong – he had no stomach, no ki, the expanded purse on his belt held only furniture and camping supplies and a single spirit stone. His hair was long, held up with pins and stiffening products.

He lashed out with a palm strike, managing to catch Not-Bull’s chin with muscle memory alone even as he panicked at the disappearance of his supplies and half his cultivation. “Who are you?” he spat. A fist rushed past his face, Bull’s cocky grin perfect in every way.

“Hm? Is that a trick question?” The next hit connected; Lu’s battle instincts were head and shoulders above where they had been, but his poorly-muscled body couldn’t keep up.

“You aren’t Bull!” He retreated, abandoning martial arts to fling spells. Fire and lightning flashed out, ice and wind arts hiding in their obscuring wake.

The illusion, or whatever it was, widened its eyes. “Third realm..?” The facsimile of his friend’s grin widened, and he broke through the wall of spellcraft with sheer brawn – he may have been only fifth realm to the real Bull’s sixth, but that was still four-ish times stronger than Lu, not even counting the difference in base physicality. “You’ve been holding out on me! When did you learn these?”

Another volley, then another as Not-Bull advanced steadily – then, Lu sprung his trap. A fourth realm Fireball, cloaked in illusion, took the doppelganger in the chest, and the scent of burnt meat filled the air. Lu’s teeth clenched. “Stop it. I’m not fooled.”

The illusion rolled, his chest a mess of charred flesh, the surprised expression on his face tugging on Lu’s heart even as he knew it was a lie. Do I know it’s a lie? No, it has to be; I’m under the effect of some sort of mental attack – one strong enough to get through Persimmon’s anti-Bones array. That’s all. Miraculous dream-based time travel isn’t even near the table, let alone on it.

Not-Bull came to a stop at the end of a long skid mark of blood, his body seemingly paralyzed with sheer incredulity. Then his expression morphed, becoming something calm and dark that Lu had only seen a handful of times. “That’s… not possible. Lu doesn’t practise has combat spells. I need to heckle him every day just to get him to do the minimum amount of training…” Lu sent out another round of illusion-cloaked spells, but the imposter blurred away with a movement art. “I get it. Somebody wants me gone, huh?”

“Don’t you dare wear my friend’s face like that, you-! I can’t even think of an appropriate insult!”

Lu’s words were ignored. “So, what happened to Lu? You got him stashed in a closet somewhere?” The thing, draping itself in what was assuredly false concern, dodged again. He weaving between invisible spells with ease, his sense extended, and Lu's skin broke out in goosebumps as the exact situation he was in buried itself in his skull. Bull..! Whatever this is, it fights like the real Bull –and I've never beaten him a single time! Dark energy like rolling black flames covered scarred fists, and Lu could feel gravity distorting under the effect of the powerful art. “If you tell me where he is, right now, I’m inclined to leave you with one limb to crawl away on. You get one chance.”

Not-Bull blurred forward. Lu cast Anchoring Distortion, but there was another lurch, time slipping forward as the dream constricted tighter. He chained movement arts, but the false Bull kept pace, accurately predicting the pattern of his dodges, growing closer with the deadly high realm art radiating in his clenched fists. If I’m hit with that, I will die. I can feel it; that’s a real Hell’s Monkey Snatches the Moon. Bull’s favourite spell.

Some sliver of doubt crawled in, only to be banished by rising panic. No Space Ripper or Spacial Freeze. No double-enhancing my muscles. No treasures or pills. This stupid dream logic is subverting my illusions – or the doppelganger is above fifth realm and toying with me, or this is my mind conjuring visual stimulus in response to a mental attack tearing it apart, it doesn’t matter! How do I fight back?! How do I cross two-realms-and-change of differing power?!

The imposter finally caught him, and an instant before his body was compressed into a sphere the size of a pinhead, the answer flashed into Lu’s overloaded brain. Forms built, and as the darkness-wreathed fist came up in a terribly slow-motion uppercut that was almost certainly more dream nonsense, Lu cried out. “Ego Shredding Blade!”

The darkness winked out, his opponent’s borrowed face losing all expression as Lu’s retaliatory mental art spilled its thoughts like a physical blade would entrails. It rallied, mental fortitude overpowering the sloppily-cast first use of the spell, so Lu poured the last of his qi into the greedy spellform a second time. “Get out of my dreams!”

When Bull’s form hit the smooth stone of the illusory training grounds, it failed to rise. It’s chest pushed it up a half-centimetre, before lowering and failing to rise again. The copy’s – it has to be a copy, has to be – eyes went glassy, the grimace of murderous intent and the pain hiding underneath both slackening off its features as dying muscles lost cohesion. Lu felt bile rise up his throat at the terrifyingly realistic image.

“That’s fake. That’s fake!” But I felt the gravity of his spell, didn’t I? “Ego Shredding Blade doesn’t kill! You’ve made a mistake, whoever you are!” Unless I’ve misunderstood. This was my first time casting the spell. Caustic liquid hit the back of his tongue, and Lu closed his mouth to keep from vomiting. He struggled for long seconds, before choking out a third round of denials. “This can’t possibly be real. I’ll prove it.”

He was fully out of qi, but it just so happened that he had a singular spirit stone on hand. The energy that entered his dantian felt real, but spiritual senses were only mostly impossible to fool – and that difficulty was almost entirely in the opposite direction.

“Stupid. I gave this stone to the Grandmaster, I can’t have it now.” The forms built out in his mind a third time. “What is this even for? Why play dead while I recover?” Stop monologuing at the enemy, just do it. “Fine, stay silent. Let’s see if this rotten dream can handle an unorthodox attack!”

He struck down, but his chop never reached the stone. A muscular and scarred hand shot out, skin distending as it stretched to three times the length in order to snag Lu by the wrist. Not expecting this level of absurdity, Lu failed to hold the spellform and felt the complicated art collapse.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Toothsome little thing, aren’t you?”

The voice did not come from Not-Bull’s not-corpse, but rather the ground beneath Lu’s feet. A section of the fake tile pattern far to his left shifted, the shallow crack yawning open to reveal an eye, massive and with only a pinprick pupil embedded in wide green iris. Another eye opened, then more, until the circular arena was littered with a dozen torso-wide eyes, the tile pattern distorting like the facial tattoo of some demonic beast.

“What gave me away?”

Lu swallowed. He was out of qi again, and what was left of the stone wasn’t nearly enough for any mental attack worth mentioning. Around him the tiered stands were tilting away as if they were going over the horizon, the angle of the walls growing more extreme. “Rather a lot of things. It was a poor bluff.”

The ground spoke again, its voice holding neither tone nor inflection. “How so? I got the personality straight from a genuine telepath; that Bu Guanyin should have been perfectly identical to the real thing.”

He stumbled as the ground continued to change, growing rounded, the square markings disappearing as the stone roughened. No, the false Bull was perfect actually – not that I’ll tell you that. “The whole dream sequence before the fight started set a poor stage for deception. Why do that?”

The training ground – actually, it was more of a hill at that point, growing ever taller as the surroundings tilted away – sighed, a sound that Lu would have described as flavourless if he were forced to pick a word. “It wasn’t on purpose. This whole dream thing is really Bones’s deal, you know? I prefer my subjects awake enough to know what’s happening – or what I want them to think is happening, hah.”

Lu swallowed again. The acidic taste remained extremely real on his tongue, the grip on his wrist unyielding. “You are… One of the Great Ancestors, yes?” Hidden Moon or Uriel; I doubt this is Joe. What do I know about them? The answer came swiftly: functionally nothing. Moon is associated with music and Uriel with curses, that’s basically it.

But seeing as I’m currently on a large, increasingly spherical object cratered with eyes, and the other Ancestors took their names quite literally… “Hidden Moon?”

As he said it the sky went black, before a green-blue-white disc crawled up over the horizon. Stars appeared, dimly at first around the bright image of Earth, growing more distinct as they splashed further and further across the darkness.

“No points for the obvious answer. But more importantly, how does this look? Gestalt didn’t really give a shit about what the sky looked like, which is just inconsiderate. If you’re going to read someone’s mind, why leave any stones unturned?”

It was, as far as Lu could tell, a perfect recreation of Earth as seen from the moon. Blackiron took up the centre, icy frozen seas stretching out in one direction and liquid blue ocean the other. On the bottom edge was a landmass that might have been Redsea, the slightest impression of sprawling cities visible to his enhanced eyes. “I’ve never been to space. Why try to kill me? I’m an outer disciple, there are a thousand more impactful targets you could have chosen!” Do they keep going after me just because I happened to be the first human on Salt? Such a poor reason!

“I wasn’t trying to kill you – this is a dream. Although, I suppose I don’t know for certain what would happen if you were to die here.” A pause. The planet turned slowly, glistening like a jewel.

“Why then? Just to mess with me?”

“Again, no points for obvious answers.”

Frustration building as he continued struggling against the iron grip of the fake corpse, Lu stomped the ground. It gave, just slightly, a sensation that did nothing to clear the taste of bile coating the inside of his mouth. “Well, I’m done with it, with whatever this is! Let me go, or I’ll slice you to pieces with mental arts!”

The moon was silent. Slowly the stars began to dim, returning the sky to perfect blackness save for the bright dream of Earth shining down. Come on. Don’t call my bluff. Don’t do it!

“This wasn’t the plan, you know? I was just going to spook you a bit, then cut in with the offer. I really should have practised this at least once, or roped Bones in, or something. It’s a bit embarrassing.”

Finally, Lu was able to pry away enough of the thing’s fingers to free himself. He backed away from the deformed corpse, rubbing his bruised wrist. “An offer?” It speaks so much more casually than the other ones I’ve met. Should I be disarmed, or even more worried?

“Oh, nothing major. I really am just copying Bones, here. Allegiance for your friends and family, I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out.”

Should I dissolve a bit of my dantian to get some qi? Argh, I’m so close to fourth realm – let’s just keep talking. “Did he not tell you I rejected him? What makes your offer more appealing than his? And on that note, starting negotiations by attacking me with a copy of my best friend was a low move; I expect you to sweeten the pot accordingly.” Not enough spirit stone for a proper attack, but I should keep absorbing it anyway – I might need to dodge if it throws a tantrum. But what about my consumption?

“Oh, I like you. You'd do well as one of my cultists; you understand how to lie by telling the truth.” I’m in a dream, so my stomach isn’t actually gone – but it feels more real than the visions from Oldest Bones, so who knows if the rules are the same? I can’t taste any ki… but! I could feel the gravity! My Comprehension isn’t entirely suppressed! “A real schemer. That’s rare among my people.”

The ground shifted yet again, and Lu stumbled as the surface began to turn under him. It’s-! He ran, leaving the corpse behind to tumble over the edge into the void. “This isn’t how gravity works! I’m meant to stick to the ground, same as on Earth!”

“Still a dream, remember? As for ‘sweetening the pot…’ Let’s see how you feel after hitting the atmosphere, shall we?”

His feet left the ground, stylish soft shoes kicking the air as the Ancestor answered him in the most ironic way possible. The moon receded as he flew, up becoming down as the Earth asserted it’s hold on his mass.

Lu had never understood a fear of heights, but as the shining planet grew closer and he began to feel wind rushing past his face, he began to feel empathy for those with the phobia. “L-lies and threats! That’s all you have! Neither Bones nor Stingy-Eye could kill me in a dream, so you can’t either!” The surface approached, the blue oceans around Blackiron growing to fill his vision as individual mountains rose up like sharp teeth, crowding each other as they competed for the honour of catching him on their slopes. “This is a bluff!”

“Hmm, is it?” Something pressed against his back, pushing him even harder. He managed to keep his eyes open against the heavy wind, seeing an expanse of grey craters riding his back. You threw the moon- yourself- the fucking moon?! “But mine is the consumption of truth and lies, beauty and reflections. And you know what they say… Seeing is Believing.”

Any remaining dreamlike quality blew away on the hurricane winds, and Lu’s rising fear doubled. It’s a bluff! Disbelieve, disbelieve! But some part of him was inextricably caught in the illusion, and he knew deep in his heart that if he was pulped now, in this moment, something real would break. A sensation rose up his esophagus, but it wasn’t bile this time; no, it was something he couldn’t name, a visceral feeling of refusal, a need to call the Ancestor on its bluff, on its mistake.

“You can’t…” His voice was small against the roaring winds. “You can’t…” The ground was close now. Detailed. With a heart-stopping amount of adrenaline flowing through his veins, Lu could see everything: mountain goats fleeing, eagles flying next to their prey as they tried to escape the absurd thing occurring, the moon falling from the sky. An old farmer looked up from her field nestled between mountain pines, her hoe slipping from loose fingers as disbelief gave way to sheer, naked terror. “You can’t…”

The something ripped free, clearing his throat and adding a vast echo – enough to overpower the wind as he forced reality to conform to his truth. “You Can’t Fool Gravity!”

----------------------------------------

Lu leaped out of bed, covers tearing under the pull of his fingers as his head struck the ceiling. He barely felt it, panic and sick elation washing away the brief pain as he scrabbled towards his desk.

“Brush, pencil, anything- there!” His nails tore splinters off the wood in his haste as he grabbed a calligraphy brush and pot of ink. The first scrap of paper he got his hands on joined it – a spell scroll. Hopefully the scribes would forgive some defacement for the good of the sect.

With motions that started erratic but became increasingly calm as the seconds passed, he recounted every detail of his experience before it could be washed away by his waking mind. He left nothing out, from the obviously dreamlike sparring match to the terrifyingly real end, when the moon had been ripped apart by tidal forces just before it could smash into the continent. His breathing became less ragged, his letters more readable, and as he drew the last character Lu had become something that could be labelled calm.

“Ancestors,” he muttered. “Can a man not get a good night’s sleep? Is it not enough to invade my planet, must you antagonize me on a personal level as well? I’ve never even met you. Barbaric and uncalled for, that’s what this is.”

The ink dried with a spell, his dantian as full as when he had laid down. His spiritual stomach, in contrast, pulsed with a soreness reminiscent of a fatigued muscle. The scroll rolled up and safely tucked into his purse, Lu exited his rooms, then the building. Above, the moon shone in a waning crescent. Like a tilted smile, white teeth reflecting the sun’s light against the black void of space.