Pretending To Be A Boss-Chapter 489 - 90: The Demon Child’s Dream

Dreams are another box for memories.

Sometimes people believe that warnings in dreams are not without reason.

The night before the eighth level fortress was opened, Tang Xian told his past to Li Xiaoyu.

That night, he had a dream.

In his dream, he saw the overlap of two worlds, the baby cradled in a stone statue's arms, and that baby telling him to never go to the eighth level.

Tang Xian didn't care about the dream. After all, he had also dreamed that he ate dragon meat. But Tang Feiji was still alive and well.

It was just that after that night, Tang Xian still felt that the dream came too coincidentally.

It was almost as if he possessed a prophetic warning ability akin to that of a Prophet.

If the environments in the dream all come from reality, only abstractly processed, then had he really been to that place?

The place his father referred to as the boundary between two worlds, a place not yet named by humankind.

In that dream, he saw many huge plants clinging to the edges of human buildings, just like the outskirts of Baichuan City.

In the dream, he also heard the roar of dragons and the cry of foxes.

Now thinking back, was the fox Qing JiuYu? Was the dragon Tang Feiji?

If that was the case, then the dream revealed quite a lot indeed.

At midnight, Tang Xian was still in a dream, and this time he had another strange dream.

Dreams are always nonsensical. The dreamer often can't realize they are in a dream.

But Tang Xian could easily discern it.

He wondered, was this really a dream?

Looking at his own hands, small, like those of a child who was still learning to walk.

The surrounding scene appeared to be inside a pyramid.

But there were precise instruments Tang Xian had never seen before, and the entire scene had a sacred and solemn aura.

Huge, futuristic machinery towered all around.

He stared blankly at all this, recalling what this place might be.

This was certainly not any known pyramid.

Between the levels of a pyramid, there would be exaggerated cultural discontinuities, similar to those in games.

But here, even the eighth level structure developed by the Li family couldn't compare to this place.

Silver-lit mechanical life forms passed by.

Perhaps because his body was too small, these towering entities over two meters tall seemed like behemoths to Tang Xian.

He looked at the designs etched into their silver bodies and suddenly remembered the Judgment Knights.

Only, those Judgment Knights were also called bronze terracotta warriors.

Tang Xian speculated, could these be a higher version of the Judgment Knights?

He didn't have time to think further before he was struck by a hard, thrown object.

It was like a metal sphere, thrown from not far off.

"Got him, Siren, look at him, he's bleeding, it looks so good," one said.

"Uranus, I've told you, don't make fun of him. If he realizes he's useless, he'll become depressed again," another voice countered.

There shouldn't be any sense of pain, Tang Xian thought.

Human attacks on himself should be dissolved, without any pain or ability to hurt him.

Tang Xian pressed on the wounded area. His hands were covered in blood.

The metal sphere that struck him had bloodstains as well.

Turning around, he followed the voice.

There were three children about the same age as him in the dream, and one silent little girl was watching him.

The other two must be the ones called Siren and Uranus.

Tang Xian couldn't remember this place at all, only instinctively feeling disgust.

He wanted to teach those two kids a lesson, but when he tried to do so, he saw himself.

It was as if the perspective suddenly changed.

He saw himself as a small child, dressed in clean, white clothes, like some sort of test subject.

Then the small version of himself, glaring fiercely at the three people on the other side—before fainting again.

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Seeing a child who looked three or two years old, yet bleeding so much.

It was then that Tang Xian realized the game might have shifted from first-person to third-person.

He became an observer.

He tried to make a sound, tried to perform some attention-grabbing actions, but no one could hear him, no one could see him.

As if he did not exist.

Tang Xian didn't dwell on this phenomenon; maybe this way was better, perhaps to observe the dream more effectively?

But after walking for a while, he realized he couldn't get too far from the collapsed child, as if there were an invisible barrier around.

Similar to an area that hadn't been unlocked.

He could only wander near the young child, observing, thinking.

Soon others appeared, wearing what looked like medical staff's uniforms, and with anxious faces, they picked up the unconscious child.

The vision shifted again following the movement of the little boy.

Under the care of the medical workers, the little boy soon came to.

As he became conscious, Tang Xian found himself back in the body of the little boy.

As if it were his soul.

He looked at his hands, wanting to comment on the interesting experience.

But he couldn't speak; the little boy did not utter words in Tang Xian's style.

Nor did he move according to Tang Xian's will.

He was just sitting on the hospital bed, looking at those cold mechanical instruments, tears streaming down.

A child of two or three crying usually wouldn't sob silently; most would cry loudly, hoping to draw the attention of adults.