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This time, his dream held no fresh encounters. Neither Hu Min nor A’Luo appeared. He merely wandered the streets of Panlong City for a while before returning to his little house to practice archery and the saber.
Meditation in the dream brought no benefit to his cultivation in the waking world, but the martial techniques he honed here—well, at least their skill and familiarity—remained with him when he awoke. When He Lingchuan confirmed this, he was overjoyed. It meant he had maybe double the training time of an ordinary person, his waking hours plus dreamtime.
He had heard the old tale of the “yellow millet dream,” where a man dozed while millet was cooking and dreamed an entire lifetime. He, too, hoped that one day the Panlong Dreamscape might stretch on without end, until every one of the techniques and skills he learned here had become second nature.
This was, however, probably mere wishful thinking. After all, no matter how much he longed for it, his stay in the dream lasted only a dozen hours or so.
He also noticed that his regular access to the Panlong dream seemed to begin only after he had trespassed into the immortal’s cave abode. Before that, in several months,...
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