Chapter Seventeen: A Strange Dream

Quiet—far too quiet, so quiet it felt uncanny. In such an atmosphere, his footsteps unconsciously quickened.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of birds and flowers ahead, like the voice of nature itself, and even the gentle flow of a brook. Hope flared in his eyes, and he rushed forward almost at a run.

Gradually, his vision finally revealed something other than the red and black—there was a patch of green, pure and comforting. Before he realized it, he was beneath a great tree, and before him flowed a crystal-clear stream.

He slowly crouched down and gazed at his reflection in the water. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again at the stream, only to discover that while he had rubbed his eyes, the reflection in the water had not—his own image merely stared back at him.

“Ah!” he cried, falling backward onto the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Something was wrong—terribly wrong here!

No sooner had this thought formed, the scenery around him shifted again. Now he found himself in a blossom-filled meadow, sitting at its very heart.

If someone were to paint this scene, it would undoubtedly be breathtaking, yet for Wang Hui, immersed in this beauty, there was only endless strangeness and fear. It was like a rose with thorns—danger hidden beneath exquisite petals.

He dared not linger, and fled swiftly, but no matter how he ran, the landscape around him never changed.

It was as if he were forever treading in place!

At that moment, a hollow voice echoed.

“What… is your name?”

The sound drifted through the air; no matter how Wang Hui searched, he could not find its source.

“I… my name is Wang Hui…”

As soon as he answered, a bloody figure appeared before him.

It stood more than two meters tall, radiating a strong scent of death that made Wang Hui deeply uncomfortable.

“Who… who are you…” He had barely spoken when the figure began to change shape, shrinking down until it finally became Wang Hui’s own image.

“I am you!”

Seeing the blood-red Wang Hui across from him, Wang Hui was dumbfounded. Terror sent his mind spinning, his whole body trembling.

“How… how can there be two of me?”

“That doesn’t matter,” the figure responded slowly. “What matters is that from now on, you must obey me. Otherwise, I’ll show you what true fear feels like.”

Wang Hui paused, his face twitching.

“You’re threatening me?”

“That’s right. I am threatening you. For me, taking your life would be as simple as a thought.”

After hearing this, Wang Hui stroked his chin, squinted, and looked back at the figure.

“Then kill me.”

“Hm?” The red figure was taken aback.

Seeing its reaction, Wang Hui laughed wildly. “Ha! I knew you wouldn’t dare.”

He glanced at his surroundings. “Actually, when I fell by the river, I realized something. Logically, when I landed, my backside should have hurt, but I didn’t feel a thing. So this must be a dream!”

Wang Hui had one trait that set him apart—he often dreamed, and could remember the details vividly. Because of this, he was sensitive to dreams and could quickly recognize when he was dreaming.

Although he didn’t know why this dream was so bizarre, once he realized it was a dream, he refused to let it become a nightmare.

Too bad there wasn’t a female ghost in this nightmare—otherwise, he would have staged an elaborate reversal.

“I don’t know what you are, but you’re certainly nothing good. Take this—grandpa’s fist!”

Wang Hui shouted and threw a punch at the figure.

Yet his fist passed right through it.

He didn’t care, unleashing a flurry of blows. “Today, Wang Hui will slay demons and banish evil!”

Whatever else, in his own dream, he could do as he pleased.

“I warn you one last time. Otherwise, I’ll show you what true terror is.”

The voice from across was cold and sinister. It made Wang Hui shudder involuntarily, his whole body feeling weak.

Still, he faced the figure with bold defiance.

“If you have any tricks, try them! Behold my mighty Vajra Fist!”

The other Wang Hui’s face twitched wildly, then vanished.

The dreamscape changed.

Having dispatched the evil spirit, Wang Hui became a hero in the eyes of the people. The bullies who had once tormented him were now his followers, coming and going at his command.

But the good times were short-lived. The blood-red figure he’d driven away returned.

“Last time, you got lucky. This time, I’ll have my revenge!”

Wang Hui waved grandly. “Come at me, then!”

With that, the two grappled fiercely.

Their battle shook the world; even the sky echoed with booming sounds—though for some reason, they sounded suspiciously like someone slapping a table…

In the end, Wang Hui defeated the blood-red figure.

It lay on the ground, whimpering. “Are you still not going to wake up? Do I need to call your parents?”

Wang Hui was stunned. “Did I punch your brains loose? What nonsense are you spouting?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds. If you don’t wake up, don’t blame me for what happens next!”

“Oh, a loser dare threaten me? Take another punch!”

Wang Hui could not hold back anymore. He charged and swung his fist, but to his surprise, the blood-red figure he had knocked down began to grow infinitely larger, then slapped him hard on the head.

“Ah!”

Wang Hui sat bolt upright at his desk, rubbing his skull.

Fortunately, nothing seemed amiss.

Looking around, he saw all his classmates staring at him in shock.

Recalling the dream, a sense of dread swept over him.

He glanced up—and was greeted by a terrifying sight.

His math teacher, furious, was glaring at him, one hand raised high—clearly the one who had just smacked his head.

“Teacher, let me explain—”

“Out! Now!”

Wang Hui, crestfallen, rose and walked out of the classroom.

That, indeed, was truly a taste of terror…