188: Chapter 182: Divine Blade Blood Vengeance!
188: Chapter 182: Divine Blade Blood Vengeance!
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“It seems I’ve really transmigrated—”
Within the luxuriously decorated carriage, Zong Shou stared expressionlessly at the round mirror before him.
The reflection showed a young boy, not yet of age—about thirteen with a pale complexion.
However, his facial features were exceptionally handso and exquisitely refined.
A pair of narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes sparkled with light, yet at this mont, they also carried a hint of bitterness and helplessness.
Not long ago, he was decidedly an ordinary face in the crowd, one that would not stand out at all, serving as a librarian in the capital of a small nation in the Cloud Realm, leading an aimless and mundane existence.
Unexpectedly, upon awakening from a dream, his body had been switched to that of such a handso youth.
Though slightly fragile and sickly, he was undeniably handso.
Even the most top-notch male stars fad for their looks in his previous life couldn’t compare.
If anything was lacking, it was rely his bearing.
But at this mont, Zong Shou felt not a whit of joy, but rather filled with distress and confusion.
It was as if a fish, which had been freely swimming in the sea, suddenly found itself on dry land.
All around him, apart from the stifling strangeness and surprised bewildernt, was a pervasive sense of fear and loneliness.
Unwilling to give up, Zong Shou pinched his face harder, only to feel a sharp pain.
Naturally, he did not find any trace of plastic surgery on his face.
“—There’s a sense of pain, so it can’t be a dream.
But what is my identity now?
And where exactly is this damned place?”
‘Zong Shou’ was the na from the mories of his current body.
He had another na in his previous life, but in his present circumstances, it was already aningless.
Muttering to himself for a while, Zong Shou sighed and turned away his gaze, his chest filled with despair at the thought of returning or ‘waking from the dream,’ and he had completely given up hope.
In fact, it had been several days since he had acquired this body.
Almost every ti he woke up from sleep, he would repeat the actions just now.
Today was the seventh day.
Looking at the interior design of the carriage, it seed to harken back to ancient tis, and yet not quite.
Pulling aside the curtain, he saw vast expanses of wilderness stretching infinitely beyond, a vibrant green that was refreshing to the eyes.
The air was also crisp and clean, completely free of the pollution of his forr era.
If he looked further down, he would realize that the carriage, though it had wheels, was actually suspended midair, about three feet off the ground.
The sixteen single-horned unicorns leading the carriage moved as if stepping on air, capable of ascending and descending at will.
Thus the carriage, despite its bulkiness—the carriage alone was a good forty square ters—could traverse any terrain effortlessly.
At this mont, no one was steering it; it was speeding straight ahead, racing towards the distance.
The scars of sword marks and blade cuts on both sides of the carriage were also highly concerning.
Zong Shou felt dizzy and collapsed onto the couch upholstered with swan velvet.
The horses were tad spiritual beasts, and the carriage was a Cloud Flipping Chariot.
However, as far as he was aware, such things only appeared twelve thousand years earlier in the Cloud Realm and should be ancient relics from long ago.
Then, with barely a thought, a series of fragnted mories flashed through his mind.
All were disconnected and incomplete.
Among them were many texts and countless faces.
One mont practicing martial arts, the next reading books.
He had seen life and death struggles and also witnessed people flying through the skies and walking on earth.
Added to that was a towering mountain that pierced the clouds and an unfathomably large academy occupying most of an island in a lake.
Feeling both unfamiliar and familiar, and vaguely frightened, his emotions were indeed a strange and complex mix.
Deep in his mind, the only completely intact mory was a series of mysterious texts pieced together into an entire book.
He was very familiar with these texts, to the point of mastery.
He had researched them extensively as a student, even publishing specialized papers on them.
“The Indeterminate Spirit Emperor Technique, and this Demon Language.
Could it be that this is indeed tens of thousands of years ago, the era when Martial Cultivators and Spirit Masters held sway?
The characteristics in these mories should not be wrong—”
Recalling the routine telekinesis and the use of spiritual energy he had glimpsed in the incomplete mories of the academy, Zong Shou’s lips twitched slightly, but his face was filled with bewildernt.
He had seen similar scenes before, but only in video gas.
In later generations of the Cloud Realm, private fighting was banned, and the abundance of spiritual energy had diminished, leaving only so special regions known as ‘Holy Lands’ where it was richer.
Martial arts and telekinesis began to wane, and with the ergence of various types of machinery, technology flourished.
However, the people of the Cloud Realm inherited the genes of their ancestors who once struggled against heaven and earth—genes that favored relentless self-improvent and a spirit of bravery and fierceness.
Unable to cultivate martial arts personally, they could only seek solace in the virtual world of gas.
The most famous of which was a virtual holographic network ga called ‘Divine Emperor.’ It was said to have been developed with the involvent of all existing martial arts masters of the age, as well as hundreds of historians, to recreate the era of thirteen thousand years ago when heroes blossod before the advent of the Divine Emperor.
Martial arts training and telekinesis, as well as daily life routines, were all closely emulated after reality.
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