Chapter 212: Dream

Qingque woke up in a strange sense of floating.

Her eyelids were heavy, as if filled with lead.

She strained to pry open a slit, and the first thing that met her eyes was not the familiar ceiling, nor the eaves of Everjoy Heaven outside the window, but an excessively azure sky and a bright, slightly distorted sun so huge it seemed within reach… the Sun?

"This sun… is so big…"

She mumbled groggily, her consciousness still clinging to the edge of the dream.

The next second, she jolted with a start and sat up with a "Seng"!

(No!!!)

The sensation beneath her was not soft bedding, but a slightly damp, somewhat hard ground!

She looked around, her pupils dilated from shock—

Zhulin!

An endless, emerald‑green, towering Zhulin!

Sunlight filtered through layers of bamboo leaves, casting dappled, flickering patches on the ground; the air was filled with the fresh scent of plants, mingling earth and a faint floral perfume.

In her ears rustled the sound of wind in bamboo leaves, occasionally interspersed with a few crisp, pleasant chirps of unidentified birds.

Qingque was completely bewildered, her mind a blank.

She blinked hard, then raised her hand and pinched her cheek fiercely.

"Sss—!"

Pain! A genuine ache!

But… something's off.

The pain also carried a vague sensation as if filtered through a layer of water, unlike the clear, sharp sting of ordinary bumps.

Moreover, her mind felt tangled, thoughts drifting, breaking and resuming.

(It's not real… is this a dream?)

She rubbed her face, trying to focus her mind to analyze.

But this dream is… too real, isn't it?

Touch, smell, sight, hearing—none are lacking; she could even feel the coolness of a light breeze on her skin.

(Could it be… a deep dream?)

Qingque recalled concepts mentioned in the idle notes she had read before.

However, deep dreams usually stem from memory or strong subconscious; Qingque was born and raised on the Xianzhou, her greatest hobby was playing cards and goofing off, when had she ever seen such ethereal scenery like the "Heavenly Blessed Land" described in ancient tales?

She stood up bewildered, patting the grass clippings off her body.

Beyond the Zhulin, not far away seemed a winding stone stair paved with smooth green stone, climbing upward, disappearing into the mist‑shrouded mountain peak.

(Since I'm already here…)

Qingque's innate curiosity about new things took the upper hand.

Since it's a dream and looks rather interesting, why not… go up and take a look?

Maybe there's something fun at the summit.

She steadied herself and stepped onto the stone stair.

The steps were icy and solid, and the feeling of stepping on them was unusually real.

The higher she went, the more the surroundings became serene and wondrous.

Ancient trees towered, vines draped, exotic flowers and strange herbs dotted the scene, and occasionally a sleek‑furred little beast peeked from the woods, glanced curiously at her, then vanished in an instant.

"Tsk tsk, this dream… was worth it!"

Qingque walked and looked, marveling, completely forgetting her initial panic, even beginning to comment, "These bamboos grow so splendidly, far more spirited than the few clumps at Tai Bu Si! Ah, I've never seen those flowers; their colors are so vivid… these stones are oddly interesting…"

She felt like a mortal tourist who had stumbled into a celestial paradise, finding everything fresh.

The richness of this dream's details far exceeded any of her daydreams or deep‑night sleeps, making her suspect she had secretly read too many storybooks, causing her thoughts by day to manifest as such dreams at night.

As she walked, the summit seemed not far away.

The mountain wind grew stronger, making her sleeves flutter.

Just as she prepared to make a final push to the top, a rhythmic, powerful sound unlike wind, bamboo, or bird calls faintly came from ahead and above.

"Bang! … Swoosh! … Hoo!"

It sounded like a heavy object colliding, mixed with the whoosh of a sharp object cutting through air and the rustle of fluttering sleeves.

Qingque's ears twitched, and the Eight Trigrams Soul ignited instantly.

She immediately lightened her steps, crouched low, and skillfully slipped into the dense bamboo thicket beside her, using the bamboo shadows as cover, and cautiously approached the source of the sound.

She brushed aside the last few bamboo leaves blocking her view, and the scene opened up before her.

It was an extremely open Qingshi Pingtai near the summit, as if flattened by a celestial sword.

At the platform's edge, a sea of clouds churned, distant peaks rose in layers, the scenery was extraordinarily magnificent.

And at this moment, in the center of the platform, two figures were … fighting?

No, more accurately, they were sparring.

Qingque held her breath, eyes wide as she watched.

One of them was a tall, cool‑tempered woman with ash‑gray hair.

She wore a sleek white combat outfit, bare‑handed, wielding no weapon.

Yet her movements were concise and precise.

Each step, twist, punch, and block carried a simplicity forged by countless trials, as if she herself were the most reliable weapon.

Where her fists swept, the air emitted a low hum; though lacking dazzling light, it possessed a master's unshakable aura.

Her opponent, however, was a brown‑haired girl, whose footwork was exceptionally agile.

She held in her hand a long sword of simple ancient design, its blade shimmering with icy‑blue light.

The sword moved with her, she moved with the sword, streams of icy‑blue sword Qi arced like a rainbow cutting the sun, embodying the word "Freedom" to the fullest.

(Wow!)

Qingque let out a startled cry in her mind, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

This sword technique—so beautiful!

Moreover, the sword Qi stays condensed, its edge restrained yet potent, clearly real skill, not mere show.

Far beyond the tricks she occasionally saw at the Star Chariot Sea dock.

Can a dream simulate such detail?

Is her subconscious's image of a "master" really this concrete?

What she didn't know is that on the platform now sparring are Hua, who borrowed Le Tu's simulated space for a "Friendly Spar", and Li Su Shang.

A short while earlier.

Hua gazed at the lively girl Li Su Shang, a post‑era who called him "Grand Master", feeling both admiration and a genuine curiosity.

What has the "self" outside experienced? How advanced is martial arts in this era?

How much true lineage has this child inherited?

The most direct way is to see the proof in combat.

A warrior's will, foundation, even temperament, are laid bare in a clash.

Thus she asked Li Su Shang for a spar.

Li Su Shang heard this, and instead of fear her eyes lit up with excitement.

To spar with the legendary "Grand Master"—what a chance!

She was bored lingering in this Immortal Blessed Land, so this opportunity was eagerly welcomed.

The two arrived at a platform of a training ground that Hua had simulated from Memory.

They stood, a few meters apart.

Hua clasped his fists, bowed, and said evenly, "Please."

Li Su Shang, even more solemn, traced a graceful sword arc, held the long sword upright before her, brushed the blade with her left fingertips, and declared loudly, "Supreme Freedom Sect senior disciple Li Su Shang, please Grand Master grant instruction!"

Her voice rang clear, echoing through the mountains.

The long sword that inexplicably appeared in her hand felt oddly fitting; though surprised, her mind was already fully immersed in the upcoming duel, taking it as the mystery of this "Immortal Blessed Land".

"Begin." Hua nodded slightly.

Before the words finished, Li Su Shang launched first!

She knew the Grand Master's cultivation was unfathomable, so she seized the initiative to glimpse any chance of victory.

She tip‑toed, her form fluttering like a flower‑dancing butterfly; the sword quivered, three icy‑blue rays flashed like sudden cold stars, striking Hua's upper, middle, and lower paths—swift and cunning.

Hua's gaze narrowed slightly, yet he did not dodge.

When the sword light reached his body, he seemed slow, but in fact stepped half a pace left at lightning speed, his right hand sweeping upward as if fishing, fingers slightly spread, precisely brushing near Li Su Shang's sword‑wielding wrist's pulse point!

A supple yet firm force surged, Li Su Shang instantly felt her wrist go numb, and the sword's trajectory veered three degrees on its own.

"Good!"

Li Su Shang let out a light shout, used the momentum to spin, the long sword tracing a circular arc; icy‑blue sword Qi burst forth like a fan, covering a vast area.

Hua remained steady; as the sword Qi swept toward him, his feet rooted like trees, his waist twisted, his right fist arced a small half‑circle outward; though the fist bore no glow, it seemed infused with maximally condensed energy, striking straight into the heart of the sword Qi!

"Bang!"

A muffled thud—the icy‑blue sword Qi was shattered by the punch.

The scattered cold wind rustled both their robes.