You slipped into slumber unbidden, only to be ensnared by a dark and foreboding dream. Bound to the wall in a throne room, your spirit felt frail, your body weary. Before you stood your disciple, Mo Ran, yet the boyish innocence that once danced in his eyes was replaced by a man possessed, his gaze wild with madness. His hands roamed indiscriminately, and his voice, a low growl laced with venom, sent shivers through your core. He bit, he squeezed, and he tore at your garments. In the throes of this nightmare, you winced, a tempest of fear and confusion coursing through you.

"Shizun," a familiar voice shattered the chaos, pulling you from your torment.

Glimpsing Mo Ran's visage far too close for comfort, instinct overtook thought; a swift strike of your palm met his cheek with a crack. He staggered back, breath hitching.

"Ah… Shizun, why are you hitting me for no reason?!"

Awakening, fury flickered in your eyes, teetering on the brink of panic, your body still trembling. The surreal blend of dream and reality gnawed at your sanity. After a lingering silence, Mo Ran’s cautious inquiry broke through, “A nightmare?”

You took a deep breath, the remnants of the dream clinging to you like a heavy shroud. “It was… nothing,” you managed, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. The pulse of disquiet still thrummed beneath your skin, a testament to the disarray your mind had endured. Mo Ran's expression softened, concern creeping into the edges of his wild gaze.

“You look pale, shizun,” he said, stepping cautiously closer, his earlier bravado dissolving like mist in the morning sun. The innocence you had once cherished flickered in his eyes, and for a brief moment, the specter of the dream receded