Chapter 920: You in the Dream

Chapter 920: You in My Dreams

Everyone thought Ye Wuming had taken Zhao Changhe to "Zhao's Village," their own little secret place.

But that wasn't the case.

No matter the method of travel, the basic principle is that the farther the distance, the more energy it consumes. At this moment, Ye Wuming wouldn't waste her strength traveling as far as Earth.

If she wasted her strength, how could she fight him?

Their hands clasped, minds linked, and they activated their divine powers simultaneously.

The next moment, they both appeared in a desolate wilderness, under a moonless, windy night, with corpses strewn everywhere and weapons scattered across the ground.

Zhao Changhe stared blankly at the scene around him, silent for a long time.

This was the scene from his dream... In this very wilderness, a chaotic multi-sided battle had erupted, corpses covering the ground. He had been in the midst of it, unsure who was friend or foe, grabbing any fallen weapon to swing wildly.

Back then, he had chosen a broadsword, swinging it recklessly enough to keep everyone at bay.

The fate of that broadsword had continued until now. Longque hummed excitedly in his hand, its blade still stained with the blood from cutting Luochuan's throat—the blood of the Other Shore seeping into the edge, exuding a faint, divine aura.

Years passed, the scene unchanged. The enchantress was still behind him, her fragrance as familiar as ever.

In truth, this was not a real place... It had been a dream, a scene Ye Wuming had constructed by invading his consciousness with her soul. The so-called multi-sided battle was merely a test of different martial arts at an entry level—first, to gauge the chosen one's aptitude for various paths, and second, to test their combat instincts and unyielding will.

A seemingly simple test, yet it had eliminated many. Talent was already one in ten thousand, and willpower was even rarer—easier said than done.

The weapons on the ground were of every type, and the chosen one's selection was part of the process, like a child's fortune-telling game.

Zhao Changhe had chosen the most brutal type, swinging it with all his might to break a thousand armies. It matched his bold and fierce nature.

This fighting style left him vulnerable to injury and attacks from behind. Her every backstab had been a reminder that this approach wouldn't work.

It also matched his character—too fierce and loyal, prone to total collapse if betrayed.

Yet his luck had been extraordinary... Betrayal had never befallen him. Perhaps it wasn't just luck; his sincerity had won him friends across the land and lovers throughout the world, ultimately bearing the weight of the three realms and ending a war that spanned two epochs.

Though these were Ye Wuming's doing, she hadn't bothered to decide whether the scene was a wilderness, forest, or city, nor whether it was day or night, or the height of mountains or depth of waters. These details arose from Zhao Changhe's own dreams—whatever he dreamed became reality.

With her previous abilities, Ye Wuming couldn't materialize this illusory dreamscape into something tangible. Only now could she barely manage it... but to do so, she needed Zhao Changhe's cooperation, to retrieve and extract the phantom scene from his past dream and recreate it.

Thus, they worked together, accomplishing a small act of "creation"—a newly formed small space.

Seeing Zhao Changhe turn his head to look around, Ye Wuming sighed softly.

He had just asked, "What tacit understanding have you and I ever had?" Did they have one? They hadn't discussed changing the battlefield, yet they had simultaneously completed a small creation. Ye Wuming didn't know when she and Zhao Changhe had become so attuned, so unexpectedly in sync... But clearly, this was their first meeting place, the origin of their bond.

Zhao Changhe kept his back to her, gazing for a long time before asking softly, "Why did you choose a student back then? Logically, you should have looked in the military."

Ye Wuming replied, "Naturally, I sought the young, with strong malleability... but I was never satisfied. The first time I tried a college student, I found you."

Zhao Changhe suddenly smiled: "Is this fate?"

Ye Wuming answered calmly but firmly: "Of course it is."

Zhao Changhe finally turned to look at her, and Ye Wuming met his gaze calmly.

In her deep eyes, there seemed to be no reflection of Zhao Changhe.

His eyes flickered, and he finally raised the broadsword: "My so-called injury has actually healed... I've always had strong recovery, and Chi Chi has been secretly healing me all along."

Ye Wuming said, "Why not keep pretending? Feigning weakness to strike by surprise—isn't that your usual trick? You just used it."

Zhao Changhe replied, "In the martial world, victory is about life and death... No matter the method, survival comes first. The Book of Chaos recognizes that, doesn't it?"

Ye Wuming was silent.

Zhao Changhe smiled: "But between you and me, that doesn't apply."

Ye Wuming's face was expressionless: "What's so special between you and me?"

Zhao Changhe laughed: "At least if I used tricks to capture someone else, I wouldn't let them go so easily."

Ye Wuming's heart skipped a beat, her face flushing.

Being pinned down as a mattress earlier, touched everywhere and even kissed, hadn't been as humiliating and infuriating as being captured twice just now. Back then, she couldn't move and had plenty of excuses to comfort herself. But this time, she had been captured at full strength.

Though she had held back... and he had help. Captured is captured; if he were an enemy, she would be a prisoner, already dealt with.

Her mind wandered, and then the wind howled ahead as the broadsword swung in a full arc, slashing fiercely: "Watch out... It's just you and me here."

Just the two of them here—if she lost, there would be no excuse.

"Clang!" Ye Wuming gathered her thoughts, producing a dagger from somewhere, slanting it to block the blade.

A dagger blocking a broadsword, holding steady, but unable to deflect it.

A strange light flickered in Zhao Changhe's eyes. He suppressed the urge to ask where the dagger came from, and Longque danced, unleashing thousands of slashes in an instant, like a storm descending.

Ye Wuming held the dagger reversed, weaving through the storm like a ghost.

If an outsider watched, they would see neither figures nor blade light, only hear a continuous patter like pearls falling on a jade plate.

Neither of them bothered to use stellar power, causal abilities, or spatial-temporal cuts. It was pure strength and speed—a duel of martial skill.

Because that was their beginning, and it should end at this first meeting place.

Zhao Changhe had always seen Ye Wuming as mystical, but now he realized that even in pure martial technique, she was among the strongest he had encountered. She was the spirit of the book... everything the Heavenly Book had evolved to teach him could be seen as her deduction, slowed down for his learning.

Everything he knew, she knew. Every moment immersed in the Heavenly Book's VR had become part of this battle; every simulated move seemed designed for today.

"Clink, clink, clink..." Countless clashes between broadsword and dagger. Zhao Changhe slashed horizontally, and Ye Wuming leaped into the air, her delicate foot lightly tapping the side of the blade, her posture exquisitely graceful.

The twin-tailed loli inside the blade felt someone step on her head, angrily reaching out a small hand to grab her ankle, but caught nothing.

Even Zhao Changhe's naked eye lost track of Ye Wuming for a moment—her speed was too fast. Longque, though agile, was physically a broadsword, not as nimble as a dagger. The battle had already begun to show signs of sluggishness.

But the same physical trait meant that lack of agility could be compensated by brute force. Ye Wuming needed countless tricks; he only needed one slash to break through all cunning.

A gust of wind struck from the left. Zhao Changhe roared, sweeping Longque horizontally.

A violent blade aura howled forth, breaking a thousand armies. No matter what tricks the enchantress played, she had to avoid this strike.

But as the blade swung, the wind vanished, and a faint fragrance spread from the right. The horizontal swing turned his body left, leaving his right side exposed. A subtle, sharp point aimed at his right ribs, raising goosebumps before it even touched.

How familiar.

Both felt the same sensation—as if this duel existed only for this moment.

Zhao Changhe's leftward swing halted mid-motion, defying all logic, as he twisted and slashed back. A standard backhand slash—the first move he had practiced since crossing over. Power not exhausted, leaving room for endless possibilities.

At this moment, many thoughts flashed through Ye Wuming's mind.

She knew Zhao Changhe would make this backhand slash; it was the basic reaction to counter a move. As expected, the standard response would be to anticipate the timing, shift positions again, wear down the broadsword brute, and gradually build an advantage.

But there was another option: take a risk. Because this backhand slash would be slightly slower. If she dared, she could pierce him through before the broadsword reached her, then gracefully retreat, recreating the scene from long ago.

She knew Zhao Changhe's current strength was no joke, and the first option was safer. But at this moment, she couldn't suppress the urge to choose the latter.

If he wanted to settle the past, she would make him lose in the same way as before.

Only then could she regain her psychological edge over him, erasing all the humiliation of recent days.

Her actions outpaced her thoughts. Ye Wuming's dagger stabbed into Zhao Changhe's right rear ribs.

The broadsword had already reached her neck, just inches away.

This time, Ye Wuming didn't intend to hold back. Once the dagger sank in, those few inches would become an insurmountable gap. She could vanish without a trace, and victory would be decided.

But in the instant the dagger pierced his ribs, Ye Wuming's heart suddenly leaped.

Zhao Changhe did not dodge; instead, he arched his body and charged straight into her. The dagger sank solidly into his side, blood gushing like a fountain, and her body was simultaneously knocked backward as if struck by a tank.

This collision shattered her anticipated sidestep, and Zhao Changhe's spinning slash had not sheathed its blade... The broadsword's length was such that even as she retreated, she could not evade its reach, and the tip pressed against her throat.

The air fell silent for a moment.

Ye Wuming stared blankly at Zhao Changhe's right side, where blood surged, then at the broadsword before her, her mind momentarily empty.

Zhao Changhe had already foreseen that she would take risks, not follow the expected pattern of retreat... This spinning slash was waiting for her to stab, and he had long prepared to impale himself on the dagger, just to rest the Dragon Sparrow against her neck...

Now, if one were to speak of victory or defeat, how to put it...

In theory, she struck Zhao Changhe first, and at their level, there were no longer any vital points; her qi rampaging through his body could still be lethal. But Zhao Changhe could also sever her neck while being slain, a mutual destruction.

Of course, she could not unleash her qi, nor could Zhao Changhe cut her throat. The scene showed only one wounded, the other with a blade at her neck.

If an outsider were to judge, they would likely rule her the loser... The most subtle thing was that in their own inner perceptions, it seemed that as long as he rested the Dragon Sparrow on her neck, it proved something.

All his actions were aimed at: I want you.

And this slash was merely to tell her, I am worthy.

"In truth, I never thought I could fully defeat you... You are not someone to be beaten in single combat; even Luochuan could not." They stared at each other for a long moment, then Zhao Changhe slowly spoke: "Captured twice, released twice, shaking your will to fight, while my momentum reached its peak. As one rises and the other falls, everyone believed I had confidence, perhaps even you yourself thought so... Yet I still do not believe I can defeat you."

Ye Wuming watched him quietly, offering no reply.

Zhao Changhe said in a low voice: "What I wanted was always to recreate this backstab... At the moment you thought you had succeeded, to place the blade at your neck. Then ask you, what do you think of me today?"

Ye Wuming still did not respond.

Zhao Changhe moved the Dragon Sparrow aside and took a large step forward. Ye Wuming instinctively retreated half a step, yet still stood close. His towering form stood before her like a mountain, looking down; she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze, and suddenly felt a third of her strength wane.

Zhao Changhe thrust the Dragon Sparrow heavily into the ground: "You used two epochs to tell Luochuan that creatures controlled by the Heavenly Dao would one day overthrow him. Within thirty-three years, I stand before you, telling you the same thing."

Ye Wuming finally spoke: "Do you want me to admit I was wrong?"

"It means nothing." Zhao Changhe reached out and lifted her chin. Ye Wuming looked up at him, not struggling.

Zhao Changhe gazed into her eyes and said slowly: "You said you are as indifferent as the night, with no one in your eyes... I wonder, once your eyes were within my body, now are there any of me in your eyes?"

Those autumn-water pupils flickered slightly, clearly reflecting Zhao Changhe's face.

"It seems there are." Zhao Changhe finally smiled, pointing around: "You and I are of one mind, building this place together, arriving here... Do you think this is merely to fulfill our initial fate, to end my past dream?"

Ye Wuming said: "Is it not?"

"Not only that." Zhao Changhe said softly: "Earlier, you said I should give you a betrothal gift... I thought long and hard, not knowing what to offer. You possess the Three Realms, have everything, and have seen more of the outer heavens than we have; I can give you nothing special. If I were to offer defeating Luochuan as a gift, that hardly counts, for he is a common enemy, and Jiuyou's resentment toward him is greater than anyone's—how could I shamelessly claim that as your betrothal gift?"

Ye Wuming opened her mouth, then closed it again.

At this point, what meaning was there in saying that love letter was not written by me? "After much thought, I think this place is good." Zhao Changhe pointed around: "This is my dream; you entered my dream without my consent. Now I have turned it into reality, and you have come from the dream to my side. We build this world together, creating a dream world of our own—does that count as a passable betrothal gift?"

Ye Wuming's heart suddenly quickened.

All the earlier domineering CEO quotes and cheesy love lines were shattered before this sentence.

Zhao Changhe continued: "If you say nothing, I'll take it as your acceptance of this gift."

Ye Wuming wanted to speak, but truly did not know how. From the moment the Dragon Sparrow was at her neck, her mind had been blank.

This slash seemed to provide justification for all the earlier frivolity, and also offered the three matchmakers for the betrothal gift.

After holding back for a long time, Ye Wuming finally said somewhat weakly: "Is this the only theme you have from start to finish? Can we not talk about some other relationship between us?"

Zhao Changhe was taken aback: "What relationship? Master and disciple?"

Given that all the demonstrations in the Celestial Book were her will, she was indeed the master, more standard than even Instructor Sun.

Ye Wuming looked up, thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled: "Have you never considered that I am your sister-in-law?"

Zhao Changhe was dumbfounded.

Ye Wuming's smile turned somewhat seductive: "What, don't you think it's layered?"

"...Are you saying this to seduce me?"

"I don't know what kind of person would take such words as seduction." Ye Wuming turned, hands behind her back, and strolled leisurely toward the mountain ridge: "To normal ears, isn't this a rejection? What brother-in-law gives a betrothal gift to his sister-in-law?"

Zhao Changhe grabbed her from behind: "When did I ever say I was normal... Don't you know I'm infamous as a rogue?"

Ye Wuming struggled a little; Zhao Changhe's wound in his side ached, and he grunted.

Ye Wuming finally stopped struggling, standing quietly as he held her.

The atmosphere was still for a moment, but the space had no wind, no moon.

Their hearts slowly calmed—all grudges, all desires, all entanglements—finally reaching an end.

Ye Wuming gazed absently at the distant sky and said softly: "This realm is crude, without moon or wind... If you give me the stars of the heavens, I will accept this betrothal gift."