The Arcane Emperor - Chapter 115: Fight or Flight

Within the dream of the dreamer, the one who was dreamed of awoke.

… Borges

“I exist in the sunlight, the wind, between the heavens and the earth, and also in dreams.”

One night, Yu Hao, a college student who was at his wits’ end had an unexpected encounter with a mysterious visitor – “General” – who had dream travelled. He led Yu Hao in solving the countless riddles that abounded in the realm of the conscious, and lit up the fire beacons on the meandering Great Wall.

Thereafter, the darkness retreated, the sun rose, and when the long night was thoroughly lit up, the him who existed in reality was reborn.

The black dragon that roared, the lighthouse and demonic eye on the coastline, the rain forest before Chichén Itzá, the fierce beasts that wreaked havoc in the Colosseum…the bizarre projection of reality in one’s consciousness reflected the hidden place that the sunlight in reality couldn’t touch – the innumerable sins of the human heart.

The journey of seizing dreams continues, and one can only hope that the sun will continue illuminating the human heart.

…

Fire beacons on the Great Wall were lit up to signal a border invasion.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Master Ouyang, please smith a divine weapon for me!”

“Master Ouyang, you’re the only person who can forge a weapon with seven attributes. Please make my dream come true!”

“Master Ouyang, could you…”

“Ouyang my *ss! My surname is Ou!”

Ou Yangming was an orphan who was adopted by a reputable old blacksmith from a military camp. After working as a helper under the old man for years, he was given a chance to acquire the Military Fire—a trait allowing him to smith and restore equipment with the Military Fire produced from his hands.

Gifted with mental power, Ou Yangming controlled his Military Fire unusually well and was also strangely talented in martial arts. On top of it, he could also attach Unique Attributes into weapons with a hundred-percent success rate. Those who belittled Ou Yangming because of his background and age eventually honored him so much that they would do anything to get their hands on his equipment.

Little did Ou Yangming know that as he slowly unfolded the mysteries of the Military Fire and his mental power, he was advancing step by step on the immortal path to Heaven!

What to do when you find yourself transformed into the vicious female supporting character in a family that dotes on the group pet?Of course, it's to keep away from the protagonist,She's practically the darling of the heavens, with a protagonist halo so strong even a dog would fall for her.Hiss, Bai Zhi said, “Can't compete, can't compete, cherish life, stay away from the protagonist.”All she wanted was to quietly make some small money and live freely, but—Group pet with tearful eyes, “Sister, come back, I'll let you have our brother.”Bai Zhi, “...” No need, I refuse.Group pet with an overflowing Mother Teresa complex, “This was all my fault; please, don't blame my sister!”Bai Zhi, “...” Look at this white lotus script; hey! Where's my knife?—Even more fantastic was when that baby-faced weak little brother suddenly appeared midway and transformed into a boss!Bai Zhi, “???”A new book has started; the Film Emperor's daughter is hibernating again. There are new book activities, sweet, sweet, sweet

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”