Ch. 1184 - A Dream of Three Thousand Years

“You’ve heard of them as well?” Xu Zimo asked.

“The Ten God-King Physiques,” Lan Canyin said. “Among them is the Spectral-Sight God-King Physique, a divine body renowned for its ocular arts. It’s said to be the greatest eye technique in existence. Do you really think even you could break its illusions? My Lan Clan’s Awakening Phantom Lotus is merely a derivative of one of the techniques born from that divine eye.”

“The Awakening Phantom Lotus, that was what you just used, right?” Xu Zimo asked.

“Only half of it,” Lan Canyin replied softly.

“So what exactly do you want me to teach you? How to break illusions?” Xu Zimo asked.

“And what could you teach me?” she countered.

“To break illusions, there’s no shortcut,” Xu Zimo said. “The best way is to strengthen your Dao Heart. When your Dao Heart is steadfast, you’ll be unshaken by all illusions.”

“You can help me with that?” Lan Canyin asked.

Xu Zimo nodded slightly.

Back on the Primordial Heartlands, he had once practiced a technique called the Great Dream Scripture.

It wasn’t a combat art, but it held extraordinary power.

It could weave dreams, countless dreams of every kind.

When one awoke, it was as though three thousand years had passed, people gone, places changed, seas turned to dust.

Though what happened within the dream was false, the tempering it gave one’s Dao Heart was utterly real.

The only danger was that it was far too immersive.

If someone lost themselves within the dream, unable to distinguish illusion from reality, they would truly live through those three thousand years, only to die in the waking world as nothing more than a skeleton.

Xu Zimo lifted his right hand. The profound power of the Great Dream Scripture gathered in his palm, shimmering faintly.

As his cultivation grew stronger, so too did his control over this technique.

“Want to try it?” Xu Zimo asked.

“What is it?” Lan Canyin asked cautiously.

“A dream,” Xu Zimo replied. “I can create infinite dreamscapes for you, experiences you’ve never known in your entire life. You must feel the dream but not lose yourself in it. If you mistake the dream for reality, you’ll be trapped. There is risk, but I can wake you before that happens. Will you try?”

“I will,” Lan Canyin said with a nod.

Xu Zimo led her into his room. Lan Canyin lay down gently upon the bed.

He waved his right hand, and the essence of dream enveloped her completely.

Lan Canyin’s breathing slowed as she drifted into slumber.

Dreams had no color, but because of their content, they became vividly hued.

As the power of the Great Dream descended, her body and mind sank into calm.

Xu Zimo stood, glanced at her once, then quietly stepped out of the room.

Xie Changliu was waiting nearby. Seeing him emerge, he chuckled. “So you’ve dealt with Miss Lan already?”

“Let’s go take a look at the Ghost God Collegium,” Xu Zimo said simply.

The two walked down the forest path beyond the courtyard of the Revered Hall.

The Ghost God Collegium was vast, one could walk for days and still not reach its end.

“What do you think about what happened last night?” Xie Changliu asked as they walked.

“It feels like a kind of Nomological Truth… or perhaps a Primordial Edict,” Xu Zimo said thoughtfully.

“I’ve heard the whole Ghost God Heaven is governed by strange Primordial Edicts,” Xie Changliu replied. “But a Primordial Edict that powerful?”

“This world is full of wonders we’ve never seen,” Xu Zimo said with a faint smile.

As they spoke, a sudden gust of wind cut through the air nearby.

Xu Zimo extended his hand and caught something between his fingers, a letter that had torn through space itself.

On the envelope were three bold red characters.

I Challenge You.

Opening it, Xu Zimo read the words written inside, only four.

Meet me. Battle Arena.

Xu Zimo smiled faintly.

“Someone’s sent you a battle challenge,” Xie Changliu said, amused.

“Seems like dealing with Xuan Ming didn’t scare them off, it just offended even more people,” Xu Zimo said lightly.

Flames flickered in his palm, and the envelope turned to ash.

“Come on,” he said, waving his hand. “Let’s go see.”

At the Battle Arena, the autumn wind blew through rows of black ghost-trees, scattering their dark leaves into the air.

Hundreds of Ghost God Collegium students had gathered around to watch.

“Do you think he’ll actually show up?”

“I doubt it. Senior Xiao Hen himself issued the challenge, aside from the Nine Ghost Princes, who’d dare face him?”

“I’m not so sure. Xiao Hen may be strong, but that newcomer doesn’t seem like someone who backs down. They say he’s reckless, he’ll probably come.”

“Quiet, quiet, he’s here!”

As Xu Zimo and Xie Changliu appeared at the edge of the crowd, the noisy chatter fell silent.

Xu Zimo stopped and looked around. “Who sent the challenge?” he asked.

“It was Senior Xiao Hen,” someone replied.

Xu Zimo lowered his gaze toward the platform.

A man sat cross-legged atop the head of the Azure Dragon Blade.

He rested calmly, a massive broad-blade standing upright beside him.

The blade was nearly a meter wide, its groove lined with countless tiny razors that gleamed coldly. It gave off a feeling of heavy, suffocating power.

The man himself wore a simple gray robe, plain in appearance, unremarkable in face.

“Come down and fight,” Xiao Hen said as he slowly rose to his feet, his gray robe fluttering in the wind.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Xu Zimo said casually.

“To slay you is to restore the academy’s honor,” Xiao Hen replied bluntly.

Xu Zimo smiled faintly, sweeping his gaze across the gathered students. “Anyone else want to challenge me? If so, come together. One by one is a waste of time.”

The crowd exchanged uneasy looks, no one dared to move while Xiao Hen stood there.

“Come down,” Xiao Hen said, leaping lightly from the dragon’s head to the platform.

The broad-blade followed, unsheathing with a loud clang, its grinding edge shrieking in the air.

He gripped the weapon tightly, its killing intent surging, the surrounding space humming with sharp blade energy.

“When I kill you,” Xu Zimo said as he stepped down toward the platform, sounding almost bored, “will there be anyone left to challenge me then?”

“Below the Ghost Princes, none can defeat me,” Xiao Hen said proudly.

“Then let one of those so-called Ghost Princes come fight me,” Xu Zimo replied.

At those words, Xiao Hen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Nine Ghost Princes are all in seclusion. They don’t have time for you. But you killed Xuan Ming, the Four Symbols Division won’t forgive that.”

“You people at this academy really have too much drama,” Xu Zimo said with a faint shake of his head. “Go ahead and draw your blade. You want to die, I’ll grant your wish.”

“Let’s see who dies first!” Xiao Hen shouted.

He swung his weapon, the heavy blade trembling as it cleaved downward.

The force split the air itself, rending open the sky, a streak of silver light burst forth, descending like a falling star.

Xu Zimo simply looked up. His gaze met Xiao Hen’s.

In that instant, the void froze.

Xiao Hen’s body stiffened in place. His blade was caught mid-swing, frozen in the motion of the strike, unable to fall even an inch.

It was as if the very air had solidified into stone, trapping him within it.

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