That night.

Small building in the east fence, north room.

A candlelight.

Light up half the house.

In the middle of the room, there is an empty space specially cleared.

There was a scholar in a blue robe walking with his eyes closed.

The five-style boxing stance from "Fu Shan Xi".

He swung his fists in his sleeves, moving smoothly like flowing water, combining both hardness and softness.

Zhao Rong closed his eyes and felt that his current state was very strange.

It was as if his consciousness had left him, and he looked down from mid-air at the people walking on the ground, as if he were in a dream.

Moreover, Zhao Rong felt it clearly.

It's not that the fist moves with him, but that he moves with the fist.

Everything fell into place naturally.

After practicing the "Fu Shan Zhi" posture thousands of times, it seems to have become Zhao Rong's instinct.

To use the words from his previous life, he had already mastered it to such an extent that this set of boxing skills was deeply engraved in his bones.

Just like his calligraphy, when he puts pen to paper, there is no need to be deliberate, the horizontal, vertical, pressing, lifting, turning and other strokes come naturally and jump off the paper.

And Zhao Rong remembered it even more deeply.

Half a year ago, on the way north, beside the campfire under the green mountains on a moonlit night, Liu Sanbian whispered to him that this was called the boxing spirit taking over the body.

This is the realm that countless warriors living at the foot of the mountain dream of.

At that time, Liu Sanbian's mouth curled up into a sinister and gentle smile.

If Brother Zhao can practice the stance and carry out the spirit of boxing, then he will have the talent to become a top-grade martial artist. Then, I will give him another set of boxing techniques.

But as he spoke further, his smile gradually faded.

Probably, but I also think that I probably won’t be able to wait for that day.

At this moment, Zhao Rong, who was walking with his eyes closed, pursed his lips, and was about to change his mind...

Just the next second.

He stabbed the sword furnace suddenly.

The room suddenly became dark, filled with the dead silence of the night. There was no light or brightness, except for a pair of determined eyes that were as bright as stars.

It turned out that Zhao Rong had just extinguished the candle on the table in the distance with a finger.

The fist energy moved naturally and was even half a beat faster than his thoughts.

Zhao Rong suddenly took a breath of cold air.

In addition to the magical power of boxing that was flowing through his body, and the last moment of walking the stance that broke through the sixth of the eight extraordinary meridians, the 'Chong Mai'.

Also because at this moment he was covered in sweat and his clothes were soaked.

It just happened to be the brief period of weakness of the fire dragon in the body after the successful Chong Meridian, and the body was also very weak. In this late autumn night, the cool breeze hit the body, and this feeling...

However, Zhao Rong couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth.

Finally, he broke through another meridian and was one step closer to the Fuyao realm.

He jumped twice on the spot to stretch his muscles, then lit the light again and went to the bathtub to take a hot bath.

About half an hour later.

After washing himself, Zhao Rong put on the autumn clothes that Qingjun had washed for him, and walked towards the desk, ready to light a lamp to read at night.

He drooped his eyelids, let out a sigh of relief, walked past the bed in the room, and after taking a few steps, his body paused slightly.

Zhao Rong stood still for a moment and thought about it.

The next second, he yawned, walked towards the bed, and gave up the idea of ​​continuing to read at night.

Like Qingjun said, it's time to take a break.

Zhao Rong fell face down onto the quilt that had been dried and laid out by Concubine Zhao Ling herself.

It seems to be filled with her and the sunshine.

Someone took a few deep sniffs.

"Qing Jun... Qing Jun... Xiao Xiao..."

Zhao Rong muttered to himself and his eyelids drooped.

The night is quiet.

…

Zhao Rong had a dream.

Still a lucid dream.

He was conscious and remembered everything before the dream.

Zhao Rong looked around.

Surprised.

This dream is not colorful, but it can be said to be bizarre.

Because everything around is only black and white.

In the field of vision.

Except for the black lines used to outline the scenery, objects and people, everything else is pure white, like a brand new piece of white paper.

Zhao Rong's thoughts turned.

Isn’t this a landscape painting?

Well, in other words, he is now in a small dream world that looks like a landscape painting.

There are only two contrasting, extremely simple elements.

And this black and white has its own rules.

The thickness and lightness of ink.

The shallowness and depth of white space.

Deeper dimensions are formed, such as perspective, size, movement and stillness.

Zhao Rong laughed.

Interestingly, the composition follows the brushwork of landscape ink painting. This dream is interesting.

At this moment, he looked down at his body.

Palms, arms, stomach, legs, everything is made of ink.

Without exception, Zhao Rong at this time is also an element that constitutes this strange landscape ink world.

Just like the little man drawn by the burly painting teacher in his painting class.

The first thing Zhao Rong wanted to do was to find a mirror to see what he looked like now.

However, he soon discovered that even the lake water was the blank space in the landscape painting, so there was no way it could reflect his appearance.

Zhao Rong was still a little curious. After coughing twice, he started touching himself.

Fortunately, everything that should be there seems to be there, but it just seems a little smaller.

Well, it's touching your face.

The nose, eyes and mouth all became smaller.

Zhao Rong studied it for a while and suddenly realized that he seemed to have turned back into the child he was eight or nine years old.

I said how come it got smaller...

At the same time, because of landscape ink painting.

Touch, vision, taste, smell, etc. seem to have been redefined, creating another experience and taste.

Zhao Rong studied it briefly and then stopped caring about these miscellaneous things.

It's so hard to have an interesting lucid dream, but now that it's here, I might as well just enjoy it.

He began to explore this strange dream world with curiosity.

Zhao Rong likes lucid dreams very much, because according to his past experience, he can really do whatever he wants in a dream.

At this moment, Zhao Rong looked around.

He was found by a stream.

There was no sun in the sky, and no one knew where the light came from, illuminating the entire world of landscape ink painting.

The migrating geese in the distant sky are like two strokes on paper, flapping their wings.

The current location should be in the suburbs.

Because Zhao Rong was surrounded by lush dark-colored trees that danced naturally in the wind.

Occasionally, some small animals made of ink would appear and disappear.

It is a vibrant scene, even though it is only in black and white.

Zhao Rong thought about it, opened his right palm, and the next second, a brush suddenly appeared out of thin air in his hand.

He smiled lightly and it worked.

But some rules still need to be slowly explored.

Zhao Rong grabbed the brush and lightly drew a blue boat, which fell straight onto the stream, splashing ink-colored water.

He boarded the orchid boat, held up a long pole, and sailed on the water.

Follow the water flow to explore this dreamland.

As far as Zhao Rong knows, dreams are the fulfillment of objective wishes and a reaction to subconscious content... Well, in layman's terms, whatever you want will come true, especially the things and people that you have been thinking about on a daily basis.

Of course, there are deeper mysteries.

Zhao Rong looked around.

So, whether Qingjun and Xiaoxiao are in my dreams or not, I think about them every day, so they should be there... ahem, the husband who can do whatever he wants is here.

He rode the orchid boat for a long time.

The surrounding scenery is still like the wilderness.

The grass and trees are fragrant, and the fallen petals are colorful.

Just when Zhao Rong was thinking about whether he should sketch out a flying sword and fly it.

The stream just reached the corner where the rapids began.

Zhao Rong held the pole, and Lan Zhou safely passed the corner.

The view suddenly became clear.

In front of Zhao Rong, the land was flat and wide, with houses arranged very neatly, and there were fields, ponds, and fruit trees.

The paths in the fields are interconnected, and villagers come and go in the fields, working on the farm.

There were old people sitting quietly with their canes to rest, and children playing and running around.

This is a scene of lightening up after a dark period.

It’s like the leisurely pastoral scenery in the Peach Blossom Spring.

Zhao Rong was slightly puzzled.

These were scenes he had never seen, nor had he ever imagined or dreamed of, so why did they appear in his dreams?

Zhao Rong blinked.

Could it be that he still has some noble sentiment in his subconscious mind of retiring to the countryside and being indifferent to fame and fortune?

How could he not know?

But even if he thought about retiring, he should have dreamed about Zhongnan Country, um, and having eighteen beautiful concubines...

But what the hell is this strange scenery before my eyes?

When the boat reached the shore, Zhao Rong got off the boat and walked into this bustling countryside.

As expected, the villagers in these villages were all doing their own things and ignored him.

It was as if Zhao Rong did not exist, there was no reaction at all.

He looked around at the villagers drawn in ink.

The specific appearance and expression cannot be seen very clearly. Only some physical features and expressions can be roughly seen from the facial lines outlined by the ink.

Zhao Rong touched his face.

I guess he should be like this too.

Zhao Rong sighed softly, and his handsome face was hidden again.

He looked around this strange village for a while. It seemed to be the only inhabited place within a radius of dozens of miles.

This dream is a bit strange.

At this moment.

Zhao Rong's gaze suddenly paused and stopped on a building in the center of the village.

It was a building that was completely different from the simple houses in the village.

He felt that it should appear more in Confucian academies, the Imperial College at the foot of the mountain, or in the private schools of scholarly families and wealthy families.

Because this is a school with a regular and square style.

Rigorous and solemn, elegant and generous.

It is totally inconsistent with the surrounding pastoral style that resembles a paradise.

But it just happened.

Zhao Rong was very interested and stepped closer to observe.

On the way, sometimes he accidentally met some villagers, but they all left numbly as if they had not seen Zhao Rong and nothing had happened.

Not long.

Zhao Rong walked around this strange school.

He couldn't help but smile.

This school, which looked tall, solid and rigorously built, did not even have a door for entering or exiting.

There was only a small window on the west side.

A school without doors?

Zhao Rong went to the west window and looked inside.

The school was bright and clear, and an old teacher was giving a lesson to a group of young children.

The old teacher couldn't see his specific face, but he saw that he was tall and thin, with his hands behind his back, his head held high and his chest puffed out. He was holding a ruler in his hand and patrolling the classroom with a serious look on his face.

This posture and movement seemed somewhat familiar to Zhao Rong, but he couldn't figure out where he had seen it.

But he was absolutely sure that he didn't know this old man.

As for these children, they were approximately eight or nine years old, and there were about twenty of them.

It looks like classes are in progress in the school.

The tall and thin old teacher was writing on the podium.

The children below seemed to be listening attentively.

Just like the villagers in the village outside, they were all doing their own jobs and ignored the head that popped out of the window.

Zhao Rong observed for a while and found that there didn't seem to be anything strange except that the school didn't match the style of the village and the building had no doors.

He wandered back and forth in front of the window but no one paid any attention to him.

Zhao Rong looked around and had nothing to do, so he carefully observed the children in the school who were about the same age as him.

But after looking around, I was a little disappointed.

Because there is no Qingjun and Xiaoxiao's shadow.

He remembered Qingjun's appearance when he was young. As for Xiaoxiao... well, he should still be a furry little fire fox, jumping around in Qiantang Mountain.

So, what kind of weird dream is this?

We agreed to do whatever we want.

Zhao Rong curled his lips and glanced inside the school again.

These twenty-one children were wearing the same school uniform.

In fact, there were twenty little boys and only one little girl with a pigtail hair, who looked very rigid.

Zhao Rong looked at him a few more times, but still didn't recognize him.

The little girl with pigtails seemed to be a senior in the school, similar to the class monitor, and she also had a small ruler in her hand.

At this moment, she seemed to be following the old teacher's instructions, leaving her seat to collect homework from her classmates.

The little girl with a crown of thorns is very methodical and behaves in a conservative way.

The rather vague expression seemed to be the same.

The little girl with pigtails held her homework in her hands, walked up to the podium, and bowed seriously to the tall and thin old teacher. Her attitude was so respectful that even Zhao Rong thought she was too respectful.

At this time, the tall and thin old man seemed to be giving instructions.

The little girl with pigtails put her hands behind her back, stood straight, and listened to the instructions seriously...

Zhao Rong observed outside for a while and felt a little bored.

He glanced at the little girl with pigtails in the school whose behavior patterns seemed familiar.

By the way, could it be that I didn’t dream about Qingjun and Xiaoxiao, but instead dreamed about this guy Yu Huaijin?

Is it Yu Huaijin? They look a bit like him.

Dreaming about her?

Was Yu Huaijin like this when he was a child?

Well, it seems that I have been so boring and old-fashioned since I was a child.

Zhao Rong shook his head.

Since he had nothing to do, he jumped up without thinking and climbed into the hall through the west window.

At this time, inside the school, the old teacher seemed to be giving instructions.

The children bowed one after another, then bent over their desks and read attentively.

They did not pay any attention or react to Zhao Rong, the uninvited guest.

Just like those villagers, like the machines in a dream, running numbly.

Zhao Rong was used to it.

He walked around the school several times.

During this time, I took a closer look at the tall and thin old man, but I still had never seen him before.

Zhao Rong looked at the decoration of the school and the clothes of the people, and found that they seemed not to be the customs of Wangque Island that he had seen.

That's a bit strange.

However, this lucid dream of his is a bit boring.

Zhao Rong rolled up his sleeves and walked around the school casually, like a transparent person.

At a certain moment, when he passed by the little girl with pigtails, his steps paused for a moment.

Zhao Rong raised his eyebrows slightly and thought of something.

He came to the little girl with pigtails who was doing her homework seriously with her head down, smiled happily, reached out his hand, and rubbed her little head with pigtails.

The old-fashioned little girl with pigtails was lowering her head and flipping through the book seriously.

Zhao Rong was still unsatisfied, so he bent down, stretched out two fingers, and pinched her round face.

Is it the Yu Huaijin when he was a child? Well, never mind, this is my dream and my decision.

Senior Yu Huaijin Yu, I bully you just in my dreams.

Zhao Rong curled his lips and pinched it again. It was a little soft...

The little girl with a pigtail suddenly raised her head and looked at him with an expressionless face.

"???"

Zhao Rong opened his eyes slightly and leaned back. No, you, you are alive? You are still responsive! You can stare at him...

The little girl with a topknot had a stern face. With her left hand, she grabbed the thief's hand, which was pinching her face and doing whatever he wanted. The thief had no time to pull back, and pried his palm open, then raised the ruler with her right hand.

Bang——!

Zhao Rong: “…”