My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 430 - 303: Dreaming with Whom?

Chapter 430: Chapter 303: Dreaming with Whom?

In a dream, like an ink painting of a landscape.

Inside a Peach Blossom Spring made entirely of ink.

In an odd ancient school, tall and solid, strict in design, with no doors to enter – only a small window for access.

A pigtailed little girl, numbed and mechanical like the background characters in dreams, mingled among a crowd of naive children.

Actually rebelled!

And she had hit him with a paddle.

At this moment, Zhao Rong was a bit stunned.

And this was happening in his lucid dream, truly a rebellion against the heavens.

Zhao Rong’s eyes widened as he examined the expressionless pigtailed little girl in front of him.

Um, that had to be Yu Huaijin.

The sensation of being hit with the paddle, that irritating little expression, those methodical movements.

Well, it’s one thing during the day; after all, sometimes Qing Jun is absent, and it’s not during Calligraphy class. My little Ascending Realm self can’t suppress you.

But at night, in my dream, you dare act so boldly... well, wasn’t it just a pinch on the cheek?

Zhao Rong felt a tickle in his teeth.

Ready to give her a taste of the power of the dream’s master, to hang her up and beat her in every way he knew how.

But the next second, Zhao Rong’s brow wrinkled as he remembered something odd about this dream – it didn’t seem like something he could construct on his own.

Because of these strange sights and the vague, inexplicable imagery behind them.

It all seemed unrelated to him.

What you ponder during the day, you dream of at night, not to mention the Heart Lake Water hidden beneath the shimmering surface of Heart Lake.

All these are nutrients for dreams.

Just like the pain in Zhao Rong’s palm at the moment felt all too familiar.

With a slight shift in thought, he remembered this sensation was the same as when he’d been paddled for misplaying the piano during a remedial lesson days before.

Past experiences are the nourishment for dreams.

Characters, voices, tactile sensations are all the same.

Indeed, the feeling of pinching this pigtailed little girl’s cheek was just like pinching Qian’er’s during the day...

But this odd dream, like a twisted ink painting landscape, some of it had grown askew, not as if it nourished from his ’nutrients’.

To put it in plain speech... ’This child doesn’t resemble me’.

Zhao Rong decided it was best to be cautious, to not hit back for now.

He was on alert in his heart right now, while silently observing the pigtailed little girl who might be Yu Huaijin.

The latter was also looking at him.

The two locked eyes.

But the expressions made from ink were somewhat blurred, you could only make out the outlines of the nose and eyes. Minor expressions were hard to capture.

Nonetheless, Zhao Rong didn’t need to guess; he knew with certainty that she wore a straight face.

But was this Yu Huaijin...

Actually alive!?

Was she like him, sharing the same dream, or to say, had Zhao Rong intruded into her dream?

Zhao Rong hesitated to withdraw his hand for a moment.

Instead, he looked around and noticed that no one seemed to pay any attention to this place.

Just like before, the lean and tall master stood straight as a rod on the platform, while the other young student children were bowing their heads in serious study.

He tentatively called, "Yu, Yu Huaijin? Brother Huaijin?"

The pigtailed little girl remained motionless, facing Zhao Rong.

With a friendly tone, Zhao Rong said, "What a coincidence, you’re here too; I am Ziyu."

He paused, seeing no reaction from her, then glanced at his hand, which she had caught in the act, and said seriously:

"Ahem, I didn’t expect Brother Yu to be so cute as a child, very much like a childhood friend I once knew, ahem, I even thought I was dreaming about her just now, and wanted to pinch her cheek..."

The pigtailed little girl remained silent and still.

At one point, her hand released suddenly, she turned her head away, no longer looking at Zhao Rong.

The pigtailed little girl glanced at the lean and tall master on the platform, then casually lowered her head to read her book again, blending in with the other children around her.

Zhao Rong’s brows furrowed slightly as he scrutinized the strange pigtailed little girl.

Was this Yu Huaijin alive or just a tool person in the dream?

Could it be he was overthinking it, and it was just a normal rebellion of a tool person?

The thought no sooner came to him than Zhao Rong couldn’t help himself again.

The hand that had just been struck by the paddle reached out sneakily like an ink stick, moving toward the little girl’s cheek, then suddenly stopped.

Learning from his recent experience, Zhao Rong reached instead for a brush next to him, using its tip to lightly poke her cheek...

Click!

Whoosh!

Bang!

With his head spinning, Zhao Rong was thrown out of the window of the school, arcing in a parabola, and landing flat on the sand like a goose falling from the sky.

"..."

Zhao Rong propped himself up with his hand, bouncing to his feet.

In that split second, he hadn’t had time to see anything before he was chucked out.

Zhao Rong hurried to the school’s window and peered inside.

An eerie scene greeted him.

The spot where the pigtailed little girl had been sitting was now empty, vanished without a trace.

And the lean, tall master with the other twenty student children were all frozen solid, either standing or sitting in place.

Frozen in the posture and movement of a moment ago.

Zhao Rong lifted his eyelid abruptly and turned his head to look around the village.

The once-busy village was now silent and still.

All the villagers, like the stone carvings in the school, were stiff in place, motionless, as if they were solidified ink.

The next second.

This solidified ink.

Began to dissolve.

People, houses, trees, rocks.

All began to dissolve.

Ink dripped down.

Zhao Rong hadn’t had time to react.

The entire dream landscape, like a landscape depicted with water and ink, melted rapidly like wax under a candle.

Disintegrating.

And Zhao Rong didn’t feel the heat dissolving them or any noise at all.