Nightmare’s Call

Lin Sheng was tired of all the bullsh*t. He had no intention of arguing with Lin Zhenyu, but his cousin seemed to enjoy flaunting his superiority.

“I know what I’m doing and what I want to do. Brother Zhenyu, you should worry about yourself. I heard from my classmates that you brought a girl to The People’s Hospital. Is it true?”

Lin Zhenyu was stunned, and his face froze. He thought that he had kept the secret well. Not only had Lin Sheng learned about it, but he had now revealed it in front of his father too.

“Stop spewing nonsense!” Lin Zhenyu panicked. After all, he was just nineteen years old. There was a lack of subtlety, and when those words came out, his father, as well as Lin Zhounian, immediately wised up.

Lin Sheng shook his head silently. As the two elders began to question Lin Zhenyu, he revealed everything he knew—including the appearance of the girl. Truth be told, Lin Sheng did not hear about it from his classmates; he saw it with his own eyes at the hospital.

Leaving Lin Zhenyu alone, Lin Sheng got to his feet and exited the living room to quickly clean himself up. He wasted no time since he knew that studying for the college entrance exam and researching the ancient Rehn text would be time-consuming. Nothing could fascinate Lin Sheng more than the ancient Rehn text.

…

Time flew. A month had passed since then.

Lin Sheng, incessant in his study of the ancient Rehn text, finally managed to translate a few crucial pages of the book. He chose pages with graphics to save time, but it was not done randomly. The pages were carefully selected based on the marks below the graphic illustrations. Each illustration depicted a person holding a long sword, all in different poses, and the lines of text were mostly annotations.

Lin Sheng discovered that the pages with graphics were explanatory while the rest of the pages just contained stories. That was also the reason why he focused on translating the pages with graphic illustrations.

Lin Sheng flipped through the pages of his notes, which he had written in Chinese characters. His brows were knitted together as he sat at his desk, immersing himself in the translated content.

“I’ve done five pages, all with graphics. There aren’t many words, and the translation process is much faster. I’ve been using the Chinese characters that I’ve learned from my past life for the notes because it’s a safer method to prevent any secrets from being leaked. But this content…” Lin Sheng was hesitant. The translated graphics were apparently illustrations of swordsmanship.

Looking at the simple graphics that he had copied, Lin Sheng knew that the pattern and style, as well as the accompanying text, described vital points and killer moves. They were obviously not for show but skills for actual combat. “Is swordsmanship from a book in a dream real? If it isn’t, it would be too dangerous to learn it.”

In the first illustration, a man was holding a sword and thrusting forward. There were many arrows and annotations around his body. The move looked simple, but the essence of it was in the annotations.

“The more important issue is that the weapons in this society aren’t as advanced as those in my past life. But firearms are rampant in this world, and cold weapons are only good for physical exercise.”

Lin Sheng frowned as a thought occurred to him.

“However, the swordsmanship from my dream could be something special. The book has repeatedly mentioned the classification system.” Upon further reading, Lin Sheng learned about the classification system. In the book, Swordsman Ravel had mentioned higher-order warriors whom he encountered on the battlefield. These higher-order warriors had superhuman bodies, terrific strength, speed, and were almost like war machines with heavy body armor. The descriptions of their battlefield completely overturned Lin Sheng’s prior understanding of the world.

Lin Sheng thought that the battlefield mentioned in the book was just from a common cold weapon era, but the existence of the higher-order warriors had changed his views; if the content of the book was real, then the higher-order warriors might also be true.

“Ravel mentioned that when a warrior attained Class III or higher, he could slowly train his stamina and improve his physique,” Lin Sheng recalled.

“If all of this is true…” Lin Sheng swallowed, looking at the graphics and text, which he had translated. It could not be a figment of his imagination. A total of five pictures, when read in sequence, formed a motion picture of a move that Swordsman Ravel was most proud of. It was called Furious Blow.

“It’s a simple yet effective move.” Lin Sheng had not seen it in person, but he could feel how badass the move was judging from the graphic illustrations. The little figure who wielded the sword was about to strike his opponent at a certain angle from above. Once hit, it would kill his opponent instantly.

Lin Sheng exhaled gently and closed the handbook.

“I’ll try to see if I can find any other content in the book tonight. Perhaps, I should leave the manor and check out other places. There are already so many things in the manor, what will there be to explore outside? And how are the outdoors going to look like? Why haven’t I seen a single living thing even though I’ve spent such a long time in the manor? The scene outside the window has always been dark.”

With plenty of questions on his mind, Lin Sheng washed up, took off his clothes, and went to bed.

When Lin Sheng went to visit his grandfather in the hospital during the day, he had an unexplainable feeling the moment he saw his grandfather lying on the hospital bed. It was not sadness.

His grandfather had never treated his family well the entire time. So, naturally, they did not have a close relationship. But in his time of trouble, it was Lin Sheng’s family that came to his aid. Having said that, what Lin Sheng saw at that moment was not his grandfather but a dying old man. The fragility of life like that of a candle in the storm was pricking him.

“I shouldn’t overthink. Let’s see if I can leave the manor in my dream tonight.” Lin Sheng lay in bed, and his eyes slowly closed. In just a few minutes, he entered the dream world.

After a short trance, he regained consciousness and slowly opened his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Lin Sheng looked at the low mahogany table in front of him and the Handbook of Swordsmanship on it. “Here I am again.”

It was still the same study room with no window, only a door leading to the hall. There were two large bookshelves filled with large red books.

Lin Sheng went up to examine the bookshelves. Previously, he took books from the left of the bookshelves. But now, Lin Sheng wanted to start from the right. Without hesitation, he pulled out a book from the right side of the bookshelf and opened it.

“Aah!” He suddenly frowned and paused as he could not see the text on the book cover; it was all blurry. It was the same for the text inside. Some text even appeared like garbled characters and lines.

Lin Sheng’s heart sank. He quickly put the book down before he picked another red book from the shelf on the right and opened it. Just like the previous one, the text in it was also fuzzy.