Chapter 12: Beyond the Dream, The Complete Manual of the Thousand Wind Swordsmanship
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Falling, falling...
His thoughts drifted across an endless ocean.
Around him stretched infinite darkness. At the farthest edge of his vision, upon the ocean’s highest layer, a faint glow shimmered hazily.
Suddenly, the sea grew turbulent. A pale, grotesque hand tore through its surface and came rushing toward him, completely engulfing Mo Wen’s field of vision.
The sensation of weightlessness abruptly surged upward.
“Gasp!”
Mo Wen snapped his eyes open and began gulping in air.
“Was I having a nightmare?”
“No...”
He could feel that his thoughts were exceptionally clear. Even a lucid dream could never have achieved such clarity.
He pinched the back of his hand. The sharp, genuine pain further confirmed the fact.
When he lifted his gaze, the first thing that entered his sight was the ruined dome of a church.
Was this some abandoned little chapel?
Tattered banners hung from the high stone walls. A few beams of light, sharper than blades, streamed through the colored windows in the dome and fell upon a metal angel statue deep within the church—one with only its left wing remaining.
Dust motes, tiny insects, or some other nameless specks drifted through the pale shafts of light.
Half in brightness and half in shadow, the angel statue possessed a strange beauty that was both sacred and filthy.
The decayed, moldy stench in his nose, along with the unfamiliar surroundings, told Mo Wen unmistakably that he was no longer aboard the Black Beast.
Had the False Dream Made Real experiment succeeded?!
Then why did this place look so wrong?
Mo Wen withdrew his gaze from the benches scattered across the floor and pulled a crooked smile. For a moment, he did not know whether to rejoice at the success of the experiment or lament his terrible luck.
He raised a hand and patted his cheek. The unmistakable sensation of touch once again filled him with awe at the power of the False Dream Made Real technique.
Tentatively, Mo Wen silently thought, “System.”
The next moment, a panel unfolded before his eyes.
All the data remained exactly as before, except that a new term had appeared in the Status column.
—
[Status]: True Puppet’s Curse (Current Transformation: 9%), Dream Body (A False Dream Made Real body created with the Forbidden Object—Dream God’s Brain as its core and supplemented by special techniques. If the Dream Body is destroyed, the main body will suffer from severe weakness for three days.)
—
“The Forbidden Object—Dream God’s Brain?”
“The Candlekeepers actually possess a Forbidden Object?! No wonder they were able to use the False Dream Made Real technique to infiltrate the Puppet Kingdom.”
Understanding dawned in Mo Wen’s eyes.
As for which was stronger, the Forbidden Object—Dream God’s Brain or the Forbidden Object—Puppet Kingdom, that was beyond his ability to judge at present.
In any case, both were existences he could not afford to provoke for now.
The fact that the system could still display itself while he was in the Dream Body state, and that all his skills remained usable, put Mo Wen somewhat at ease.
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He rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes. Only then did he belatedly realize that he was no longer wearing the dream garments he had donned before entering the dream, but instead a shirt and trousers made of coarse hemp.
“The captain really thought of everything. He even prepared clothes for those entering the dream.”
Mo Wen did not consider himself especially thin-skinned, but appearing before everyone in his dream garments would still have been embarrassing.
After a sigh of appreciation, Mo Wen walked toward the most conspicuous object in the church—the metal angel statue with its single wing—and examined it carefully.
In this era, churches occupied a very special position.
The gods were no longer vague, imaginary objects of faith. They were mighty beings capable of bestowing genuine miracles.
Thus, even unbelievers would not dare casually trample upon a god’s church.
And this little chapel... One need only look at it to vaguely imagine the “ravaging” it had once endured.
Had everyone here gone mad?
Mo Wen could not help wondering.
As he examined the statue, his gaze fell upon a book carelessly discarded in a corner beneath it.
The book’s cover was embossed with exquisite patterns, proclaiming its value. Yet even though the little chapel had been reduced to such a state, no one had dared take it away.
This thing was special.
Mo Wen bent down and picked up the book, then blew lightly upon it.
Dust danced through the air.
He opened the book. On the title page, there were only two brief sentences:
“Gazing up at the stars is an instinct of humanity. Are the stars hanging high in the heavens—or even in the unknown realms beyond the starry sky—the manifestations of gods? No one knows.”
“Humanity knew only to gaze upward and pray in humble supplication, yet never received a response from the stars. Until that day, when a meteor fell. That star answered humanity’s wish.”
He turned the page, but all the pages that followed were blank, as though the entire purpose of the book had been to record those two sentences on its title page.
Mo Wen shook his head helplessly and glanced at the book’s name.
—
The Day of Divine Birth, Part One
—
After some thought, he set the book down. On the one hand, no one had taken it despite all this time passing; if he removed it rashly, something unpleasant might happen. On the other hand, the book was so thick it could serve as a brick, making it genuinely inconvenient to carry around.
There was not much content anyway. After awakening from the dream, he could simply find a piece of parchment and write it down.
For the sake of caution, he cast Investigate upon the book.
[A book containing special content. A secret seems to be hidden in the final page and in the space between the cover and its binding.]
“Hm?”
Mo Wen froze for a moment, then hurriedly flipped to the final page.
After carefully feeling along the book, he finally discovered something unusual: there was an extremely inconspicuous, tiny raised spot on the cover.
After some effort, he extracted a small slip of paper. Written upon it were the following words:
“It is all over. Without warning. Perhaps this is what we deserve, but the crystallization of our civilization must not end like this.”
“I have hidden the Complete Manual of Thousand Winds Swordsmanship in a concealed compartment beneath the floor of the confessional behind Saint Still’s Chapel. Whoever receives this message, whoever you may be, take this gift and leave this country.”
“The Complete Manual of Thousand Winds Swordsmanship?”
Mo Wen narrowed his eyes.
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Julia had once told him that the former Duchy of Maine was also known as the Nation of Martial Arts and the Nation of Knights.
The supernatural system here focused on physical prowess, and its combat techniques were highly distinctive.
This Complete Manual of Thousand Winds Swordsmanship might well be one of those combat techniques.
And the fact that it had been hidden so deeply suggested that, even among all the combat techniques of the Duchy of Maine, the Complete Manual of Thousand Winds Swordsmanship held an extraordinary position.
Because of his Half-Puppet Body, Mo Wen’s efficiency in tempering his physique was twice that of an ordinary person.
If he could obtain the Complete Manual of Thousand Winds Swordsmanship, his physical strength should rise dramatically within a short period. If that happened, he would not need to worry about the True Puppet’s Curse for quite some time.
He committed the information to memory. To prevent any oversight, Mo Wen cast Investigate upon the metal angel statue with its single wing. The result was:
[Abandoned Unknown Divine Statue]
Perhaps because it contained no spirituality and was not a living creature, Investigate had detected nothing but a useless name.
Mo Wen clicked his tongue.
If using Investigate did not consume spirituality, he would have cast it on everything in sight.
Having gained nothing, he began searching the little chapel.
The area where the chapel stood clearly did not look safe. Though he was already a Black-Iron-class professional, being empty-handed still left Mo Wen with little sense of security.
Before long, his search was complete. The place was practically bare, so the process had been very quick.
Looking at the slightly bent length of metal rod in his hand—barely suitable as a weapon—Mo Wen sighed.
It appeared to be part of an iron railing damaged during a riot.
Still, something was better than nothing, was it not?
The moment he gripped the metal rod, Mo Wen felt a familiar sensation.
He knew that this was the enhancement granted by One-Handed Weapon Proficiency. It allowed him to make rudimentary use of most types of one-handed weapons.
He twirled the rod once, drew a deep breath, and walked out through the chapel doors.
He was just about to observe his surroundings when he suddenly froze.
Outside the chapel stood a courtyard enclosed by metal railings.
Beneath the setting sun, a slender figure stood alone beside a broken, abandoned fountain, gazing into the distance.
Lonely and desolate.
Hearing his footsteps, she turned around and broke into a smile, waving vigorously.
“Hi, Mr. Mo Wen! We meet again~”
Was that Freya?
Why was she here?!
And that tone, that expression... This was not the “Arrogant Queen” version of Frelelia, but the “Girl in Prison Garb” version of Freya!
Mo Wen’s eyes widened.
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