Perfect World: Dream of the Immortal Era

It was as if only a moment had passed, yet it felt like eons had slipped by. Wang Heng struggled to find the words to describe this sensation.

He lay on his back, adrift in a void of chaos, origin unknown, destination indeterminate. An endless drift without beginning or end.

His thoughts too, seemed to drift, exiled into the endless streams of nothingness, growing hazy and unclear.

Time lost all meaning, until suddenly, from the unknown ahead, a great river of vast expanse appeared, cutting into Wang Heng's view.

In his zombie-like eyes, a strange light shimmered, hinting at a trace of life.

What kind of river was this?

Time, ages, had turned into a tangible form, flowing drop by drop as the river—a visible, graspable entity.

Countless droplets of time gathered to form a mighty river, surging endlessly, bearing witness to the cycles of the grand world, to the shifting sands of the mortal realm and the passage of ages.

Gazing down upon the river was like watching an ancient scroll unfurl before Wang Heng, depicting towering figures and vivid epics of old.

As Wang Heng immersed himself deeper, unable to extricate himself from the vision, suddenly, the scene changed. His floating body, as if seized by an irresistible force, plummeted swiftly from the heights.

In this moment, Wang Heng felt as if the sky and earth were spinning endlessly. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, forcing him to retch repeatedly.

He wanted to cry for help, but no sound would come, leaving him to helplessly flail his limbs.

After a few breaths, Wang Heng felt as though he had "landed," descending into a dark space, where the sensation of falling vanished instantly.

Then, involuntarily, he drifted deeper into the void, colliding with a shadowy human figure.

A flood of pain followed, centering in his head; it was as if a mighty hammer had struck him hard, the agony unbearable and searing, as if a blazing sun hovered in his mind, radiating infinite light and heat.

The pain was so terrifying that Wang Heng lost consciousness several times. Each time he awoke, the relentless torment of his splitting headache awaited him, so excruciating that he wished he could dig out his skull with his hands and cast it aside.

Just as he was about to succumb, his consciousness fading, teetering on the brink of death and eternal silence, a stream of sweet spring water flowed over his lips and into his mouth, instantly spreading throughout his body, saturating his limbs and bones, and reaching the depths of his skull, bringing a cooling relief that greatly alleviated the torment in his mind.

It's hard to describe what this substance was exactly. From Wang Heng's perspective, it resembled a gentle stream, shining with a sacred, brilliant glow, like divine morning light, exuding a fragrant aroma. Wherever it passed, it nurtured everything, and the very particles of his flesh seemed to ascend, their vitality enhanced beyond measure.

“Boom!”

Wang Heng felt a certain restraint within his body shatter, and suddenly, he seemed to have come alive. His flesh, organs, bones, all brimmed with an overwhelming vitality. An indescribable power coursed through his being, causing his pores to open and his entire body to feel a pleasant lightness, as if he might ascend into the heavens.

“What is this?”

Wang Heng was filled with doubt and uncertainty. Could this be the legendary celestial nectar and ambrosia, said to resurrect the dead and regrow flesh on bones?

As this cool energy entered his head, the blazing sun in his mind began to dim. The pain and searing heat were quenched, and his numerous scars were soothed and gradually vanished. He felt an unprecedented comfort, as if his entire being was immersed in celestial liquid, his body continuously evolving and his spirit ascending.

This sensation was incredibly wondrous, unlike anything Wang Heng had ever experienced.

As the pain faded, his thoughts returned to reality, and he regained his ability to think.

Feeling the mysterious liquid's astonishing effects flowing into his mouth, he shook his head in the darkness, certain he was dreaming. Everything he had seen, including that vast river of time reflecting ancient history, was merely a product of this dream and not reality.

Wang Heng was sure of it because, for the past six months, his dreaming had been extraordinarily frequent.

As soon as he closed his eyes to sleep, bizarre and otherworldly scenes would unfold before him.

He had even consulted a doctor about it.

The conclusion was that his frequent dreaming was due to an overly active mind, causing his brain to keep working even during sleep.

Additionally, Wang Heng's love for fantasy and xianxia novels made his brain habitually construct such scenes.

Therefore, dreaming of the river of time or of drinking celestial nectar didn't surprise him at all.

With a bitter smile, Wang Heng murmured to himself, "In the end, it's just a dream."

As his words faded, a slightly urgent voice suddenly called out by his ear.

"Young Master Heng... Young Master Heng..."

The voice was unique, ethereal, like a heavenly melody, with an extraordinary penetrating power that struck the heart.

It had an indescribable charm, as if it were celestial music, pleasing to the ear, and seemingly not of this mortal world.

"Young Master Heng?"

Wang Heng felt a doubt stir within him. Who was calling out? His own name contained the character "Heng" as well—could they be calling him?

As he pondered this, he tried to pry open his heavy eyelids.

In that moment, the darkness surrounding him vanished. After the blazing sun dissolved, Wang Heng was distinctly aware that his consciousness resided within a body.

Instinctually, he assumed this body was his own, yet he found that he had lost most of his control over it. Even the simple act of opening his eyes was a struggle.

After much effort, he finally succeeded.

In the darkness, a sliver of light appeared, piercing down and illuminating Wang Heng’s eyes.

"Awake now?"

Wang Heng muttered to himself. Generally speaking, a dream ends as one opens their eyes. After waking, some remnants of the dream may linger in the mind, recalling what one has dreamed about, or perhaps the dream fades away entirely, leaving no trace.

Just as he opened his eyes, preparing to gaze blankly at the ceiling as usual, he was startled by what appeared before him.

Instead of a ceiling, something indescribable, mysterious and boundless, strange and fantastical, unfolded before his eyes.

Amidst the vision, an ancient luminescent tree dominated most of Wang Heng's view.

Standing as tall as a grown man, its trunk was thick and robust.

The bark was gnarled like a coiled dragon, riddled with countless cracks.

It was evident that this ancient tree had endured through incredibly long epochs.

The old tree was lush with branches and leaves, surrounded by wisps of pure white aura like sacred mist, conveying holiness and purity.

Amidst the fog, one could faintly glimpse several fruits of varying sizes, each emanating a captivating fragrance.

Just a slight inhale suffused one with the feeling of transcending earthly bonds, as if on the verge of ascension.

(End of Chapter)

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