Chapter 832: NO．201: So cool, even my trainer job never made me work this overtime

NO．201: So cool, even my trainer job never made me work this overtime.

How is it?

What else could it be? It's completely at the level of insufficient evidence, just wild guessing—just like I can't even figure out where you want to put this bishop right now.

You really can't tell? I'm just a beginner.

Although I'm a beginner, this move sequence has no pattern at all—it actually has a bit of the freedom only a drunkard would have.

Heh… I'm not drunk, but how many cups have you had? You usually don't touch a drop, yet in your dream you point and say drink until you're satisfied.

No matter how many cups, when you don't want to get drunk, you just can't get drunk— the young man, eyeing the black-and-white board, casually swaying a queen piece in his hand, relaxed in his seat, sighed, set down the piece, and said, "Let's just forget this game."

Meanwhile, the woman opposite him, even more relaxed to the point of half-reclining, upon hearing this raised the corners of her mouth: "Does this count as admitting defeat?"

You really dare say that looking at this board? the young man, made to laugh and cry by those absurd words, looked at the board that only needed a few moves to restore the classic castling, waved his hand nonchalantly, and said, "I guess so."

Even if you really manage to get this kind of position in a beginner's game, it's not interesting at all.

And this also made the opponent shake his head, lift his wine gourd, and say: "Really boring, such half-baked chess."

Your way of playing leaves me speechless... the young man, being blamed like that, rubbed his forehead as if hard-pressed, a strand of white in his black hair swayed as he let his hand down, and his crescent-like bangs fluttered in the suddenly rising wind.

Skyscrapers, pavilions and towers.

Two kinds of buildings that shouldn't go together have fused into one here, almost rising into the clouds; Aomo had only seen similar scenery in games, because real-world building laws are strict enough.

Above 226 meters, it's entirely the domain of flying cars and some ascended beings; above a kilometer, it's for small planes and some special flying creatures; and higher still, that's the realm of passenger aircraft.

And for safety, the biological flight guidance devices must be fully operational.

Otherwise, if those little sprites in the air are allowed to run amok, the accident rate of flying cars would who knows how much increase by tens of percent.

Of course, this is all reality; but since we're in a dream now, there's no need to come up with a logical reason for the scenery itself—after all, the fact that they can play chess in this high-altitude gale is already pretty absurd.

In international chess, you don't like exchanges, just protecting pawns to the point the king almost gets taken—has Doctor Luoxia never played international chess with you?

When was the last time we played? I can't even remember.

Has it been that long?

After staying in a dream for a long time, many things feel distant.

That's true too.

No need to say it's been long enough; Aomo already understood, nodded, turned his head to look at the dragon and giant bird flying not far away.

Below are nothing but iron shells; above are nothing but mysterious large creatures—although the Border Gate District occasionally has such a scene, seeing it rarely makes it feel novel.

So he raised his cup and drank deeply, yet couldn't take his eyes off.

His crimson eyes took in the vast horizon that always runs along the ground, unnoticed.

But then he suddenly heard the opposite side say:

And what right do you have to criticize me? Even I, a beginner, can see that you're overworking the queen.

So he turned back: "With no limits on direction or number of moves, this kind of ace is exactly 'the more able, the more work'; you should instead remember this point—in international chess, the queen is indeed an extremely important force."

Mm… forget it, whether it's international chess or plain chess. The blue‑haired dragon girl waved her hand, her bored expression obvious beyond doubt.

Indeed, your reluctance to give up pawns means only Go would suit you.

But I'm also getting tired of Go. Ling slightly sat up, lifted the full cup, took a sip, then immediately picked up the gourd and extended it toward Aomo.

Aomo saw that, so he also raised his cup to meet hers, looking at her gourd that seemed never empty, thinking of the outdated concept of Ibuki Rang or something.

What about flying chess?

The filled cups clinked; both raised their heads and drained them in one gulp.

He had already realized that, to him, Ling's liquor was like an energy drink for a specific race.

The more he drank, the smoother the liquor felt, with not even a hint of intoxication rising; instead, the dark red in his eyes grew richer, while the darkness within was calm and peaceful.

But from time to time, a phantom of a demon would appear before his face.

Displaying unprecedented vigor of magical power.

Thus he came to his senses, already having drunk heavily.

As for that, Ling had nothing to say.

As if already used to this scene, he couldn't be bothered to mention it, just continued the topic: "Actually I'm a bit interested, but why is it always chess? Don't go learning from E'na Gua Erge."

No, that's not it—I'm actually not that interested in card‑type games either, of course," Aomo shook his head, "except monster cards.

Pfft… that really brings back memories.

I won't even ask how many times I've said this—does Rhodes Island have anything to do with it too?

He turned his head to look at the thin part of the clouds, looked down at the city that seemed as tiny as a special effects stage, and instead felt a desire to plunge into it arise.

This isn't his dream, but perhaps it's also mostly not Ling's dream.

Although in a dream, he remains that top‑notch student with a solid foundation in basic energy studies; the spiritual knowledge of high‑school energy studies has already been explained as the foundation for constructing dreams.

How to judge intrusion in a dream, how to judge dream mixing, how to judge the dream's original owner—only the judgment is taught; the subsequent handling is compulsory material in university psychiatry.

Then, depending on the specific situation, it's entered into advanced or elective courses.

Although he skipped university, the knowledge he still mastered was enough for him to be certain that the only thing representing Ling is that abrupt pavilion perched on the high‑rise, and the only thing that could represent him is himself.

He was dragged here by Ling; before this, he was busy all day with no end, and on top of that his body was in the adolescent stage of resting, so he should have sunk into a deeper, tranquil sleep—there was no room for any dream.

Although there isn't, but the 'Trial' system of Rhine Life that was mentioned earlier has changed somewhat—you can look at that...

The blue‑haired dragon girl raised her hand toward the other side of the city, and the youth, following her gaze, couldn't help but stare: "Godzilla, Gamera… Raiga?"

Big lizards and big turtles, with huge skeletal bugs on the fringes.

The department that set up that system has a little girl named Qiao Yisi Moer, responsible for all material management; during the day she was pulled by the little girl Yifute to look at too many materials, and at night she ends up having this kind of dream.

Materials? Actually, hearing that, you don't even have to face the original version.

Indeed, you don't need to, but it's likely similar; they said they tried contacting you with no response, so they specially bothered me to inform you.

I really did rest early today." Aomo said subtly.

After all, I have to seize every minute and second.

Life remains as fulfilling as ever, Aomo.

Don't make sarcastic remarks; I feel unsteady—am I about to be woken up?

Hey, could it just be that I drank too much? Ling said with a light laugh.

"Doesn't look like it," Aomo slowly rose to his feet, letting his footing begin to sway, his face calm, "Indeed, seizing every minute and second is correct."

"Yeah," Ling, too lazy to refill his cup, just lifted the gourd and took a swig, remained as steady as Mount Tai, watching Aomo still tilt together with the stone beneath his feet, "Want a refill later?"

In response, a calmly swinging arm.

"No, I doubt I can get back to sleep." Having completely lost balance, Aomo, who had fallen from the building, replied.

At the same time, Aomo, asleep in bed, opened his eyes, saw the three men gathered by the bedside, glanced at the computer whose screen was still on, and sighed.

Waking up to two Ultraman warriors and a super agent blocking the bedside—what movie boss treatment is this?

Don't you guys sleep?

Xiao Lu: "Aomo-san, sorry, but we seem to have found a clue about Father!"

Keep it down, someone's sleeping kitty-corner.

Oh, sorry.

He's too easygoing; I feel bad telling him the office's soundproofing has been upgraded.

Sai Luo: "Aomo! How can you still sleep after hearing this?"

"I'm only 19; young people just fall asleep as soon as they lie down." Aomo yawned, slowly got up and dressed.

Jie Si Ti Si: "Mr. Lindon! We need you to save the world!"

What the hell is this nonsense—can his language module be fixed?

Mr. Lindon, lacking sleep, isn't very friendly.