My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 427 - 302 Dream of Landscape Painting

Chapter 427: Chapter 302 Dream of Landscape Painting

That night.

East Fence Small House, the north room.

A single candlelight.

It lit up half of the room.

In the center of the room, a space specially cleared.

There was a Confucian scholar in blue robe, eyes closed, practicing Fist Stance.

The "Mountain Carrying Volume" five postures of Fist Stance.

Sleeves fluttering, punches flowing like clouds and water, merging strength and softness.

Zhao Rong, with eyes closed, felt his current state was very bizarre.

It was as if his consciousness had detached, hovering in mid-air, watching himself below practicing the stance, as if in a dream.

Moreover, Zhao Rong felt clearly.

It was not the fist following him, but he following the fist.

Everything flowed naturally.

After countless times practicing the stance, the "Mountain Carrying Volume" stance seemed to have become Zhao Rong’s instinct.

In his previous life’s words, it was as if this set of postures had been deeply engraved into his bones.

Just like his brushwork, when he put brush to paper, effortlessly, horizontal and vertical strokes, lifting and pressing, turning and twisting naturally appeared on the paper.

And Zhao Rong remembered deeply.

Half a year ago, heading north, beside a campfire on a moonlit night under Qingshan, Liu Sanbian softly told him that this was called the embodiment of the spirit of the fist.

This was the realm countless Martial Artists dreamt of achieving.

At that moment, Liu Sanbian’s face bore a gently sinister and terrifying smile.

If Brother Zhao could embody the spirit of the fist in his stance, then you indeed have the talent of a distinguished Martial Artist, and at that time, I will gift you another set of postures.

But as he spoke, his smile gradually faded.

Probably, he also felt that this day might never come.

At this moment, Zhao Rong, practicing with closed eyes, pursed his lips, his thoughts about to shift...

But the next second.

He forcefully performed a thrusting sword furnace.

Suddenly, the room was enveloped in deathly darkness, filled with a lightless and dim night, leaving only a pair of bright, resolute eyes like stars.

It turned out that it was Zhao Rong’s just now air-pointing that extinguished the distant candle on the table.

This natural embodiment of the spirit of the stance had even preceded his thoughts by half a beat.

Zhao Rong suddenly took a sharp breath.

Not only because of the marvelous flow of the spirit of the fist that pervaded his body and his mastery of the stance which had just broken through the sixth of the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the ’Chong Mai’.

But also because he was drenched in sweat, soaking his clothes.

And just after the successful breakthrough of the Chong Mai, there was a brief period of weakness in the internal Fire Dragon, leaving his physique quite frail during this deep autumn night with the cold wind striking his body, this sensation...

However, Zhao Rong’s mouth still couldn’t help but curl up in a smile.

He had finally broken through another meridian, stepping even closer to the Fu Yao Realm.

He jumped on the spot to loosen his muscles and bones, then immediately relit the lamp before heading to the bath to draw hot water for a bath.

About half an hour later.

Zhao Rong, after a wash, draped in the autumn clothes Qing Jun had washed for him, walked towards the desk, preparing to read by lamp light.

With his eyelids drooping, he breathed a sigh of relief, passed by the bed inside the room, took a few steps out, but his body paused slightly.

Zhao Rong stood quietly for a moment, thought it over.

The next second, he sneezed and walked towards the bed, giving up the idea of continuing to read at night.

Like Qing Jun said, it was time to rest.

Zhao Rong faced down, and collapsed straight onto the quilt personally aired and spread by Lingfei.

It seemed to carry her scent and the sunshine’s essence.

He deeply sniffed a few times.

"Qing Jun... Qing Jun... little one..."

Zhao Rong muttered under his breath, his eyelids gradually drooping.

The night, silently deepened.

...

Zhao Rong had a dream.

Still a lucid dream.

He was conscious, remembering everything before the dream.

Zhao Rong looked around.

Astonished.

This dream was not colorful, but it could be described as bizarre.

Because, everything around was only in black and white.

In his field of vision.

Apart from the pitch-black ink lines outlining landscapes, objects, and people, everything else was pristine white, like a brand new sheet of paper.

Zhao Rong’s thoughts shifted.

Isn’t this just a landscape painting?

Yes, or rather, he was now in a dream world just like a landscape painting.

With only two starkly contrasting and simplistic elements.

And there was a subtlety in this black and white.

The density and lightness of the ink.

The depth and shallowness of leaving white space.

It created a deeper layer of dimensions, like distant views, sizes, and... movements.

Zhao Rong chuckled.

Interesting, it actually adheres to the brushwork composition of landscape ink painting. This dream is interesting.

At this moment, he looked down at his body.

Palms, arms, stomach, legs, and everything else, all composed of ink.

Without exception, Zhao Rong also formed part of this bizarre landscape ink world.

Just like the little figures under the brush of his robust Painting Teacher during art classes.

Zhao Rong’s first instinct was to find a mirror to see his current appearance.

But he soon realized, even the lake water was a white space in the landscape painting, unable to reflect his image.

Zhao Rong still found it curious, coughed twice, then started touching himself.

Fortunately, everything that should be there seemed to be there, only seeming a bit smaller.

Yes, he was touching his face.

Nose, eyes, mouth, all had shrunk.

Zhao Rong studied for a while and suddenly realized, he now seemed to have reverted to his appearance as a child of about eight or nine years old.

No wonder he had shrunk...

Meanwhile, because of the landscape ink painting style.

Touch, sight, taste, smell, and other senses seemed to have been redefined, offering another kind of experience and flavor.

Zhao Rong pondered briefly, then decided not to bother with these various oddities anymore.

Having finally got an interesting lucid dream, since he was here, he decided to let loose and enjoy it.

He excitedly explored this peculiar dream world.

Zhao Rong liked lucid dreams very much, because based on his past experiences, one could truly do whatever they wanted in dreams.