Chapter 114.2: Dreamchaser

Chapter 114.2: Dreamchaser

Amid the intense soul-wrenching pain, Yang Qiu began to hallucinate.

In the foul-smelling fishing port of a poor seaside town, a man standing by a rundown wooden boat looked at Yang Qiu in surprise.

The man smiled at him ingratiatingly. After exchanging a few pleasantries between strangers, he made an excuse and left, running into town without looking back.

He had discovered a wanted criminal worth 90,000 gold coins and was rushing back to inform the sheriff.

When Yang Qiu left the town, the fisherman, who had toiled for his family for more than a decade, was hanged on a rack drying fishnets with his arms and legs broken.

He hadn't really done anything wrong; he just wanted to get rich. So, Yang Qiu didn't make things difficult for him but he did cause the sheriff to hang out in the cold wind all night, and the sheriff certainly wouldn't let the poor fisherman off for that.

The man in the hallucination stared at Yang Qiu while taking his last breath. There was no hatred in his eyes, only pleading.

Yang Qiu remembered this pleading gaze for many years.

The vision of the poor fisherman dissipated, and what appeared in front of Yang Qiu was a large group of people.

A large group of people, skin and bones, dressed only in tattered rags. Their faces were blurry.

Yang Qiu stared at this group of people for a long time and slowly recalled, Ah, it's you people.

Refugees.

Natural disasters were frequent in the Navalon continent, but there were no aid groups in this world.

Refugees who could not survive and had no choice but to flee were regarded by municipalities as troublesome hot potatoes.

Yang Qiu did not know where this group of people came from. He only remembered that he had come across this group of people when he was fleeing from the holy land of the Radiant Sun Church.

With pursuers hot on his heels, Yang Qiu couldn't stay.

Even though he knew that this group of refugees, struggling to survive the harsh winter, had no chance of being accepted by the Holy Land. They would be driven away, pushed into the desolate wilderness, and quietly die in a place where no one could see he didn't do anything but glance at this group of refugees before hastily leaving.

I haven't forgotten you all How could I? Not far from these refugees, a magic steam train roared past.

The phantoms of the refugees disappeared like popping bubbles, replaced by the images of another group of people.

Yang Qiu looked at these phantoms that lingered deep in his soul, his inner turmoil gradually calming.

He knew very well that these images were his inner demons, manifestations of his own powerlessness, of the guilt and regret etched into his soul.

He had never wanted to forget these things. When he saw them again, he didn't feel embarrassed; he just understood himself on a deeper level.

Over the course of three hundred years, he had come to terms with his own powerlessness many times. It was an objective fact, and there was no need to disguise or romanticize it.

After a long time, Yang Qiu revealed a faint smile. "I see you I remember you.

"Forever."

The magic swirling around Yang Qiu suddenly surged upward.

The power bestowed by the Eye of Truth during this baptism depended on the scale of the "Gate" crossed by the living being.

This could be considered the fairest treatment for the living beings in this magical realm, apart from death. It was also the only ladder to heaven that those born in unfavorable circumstances could rely on.

However, the power in this world was toxic. Even the Eye of Truth, representing the dimensional laws, bestowed a poisonous baptism despite its impartiality.

The moment he was struck by the power, Yang Qiu's entire body trembled violently, and even his consciousness started to blur.

An indescribable flow of information surged through every inch of his nerves, and each second felt excruciatingly long, driving him to the brink of madness.

While struggling against the torrential baptism of power, the hallucinations that had disappeared not long ago resurfaced.

Moreover, they were stronger and clearer than when Yang Qiu had used the special environment of the Sorenson Mountains to pre-enact the baptism.

Yang Qiu convulsed, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, his vision spinning.

The images of the refugees he had once abandoned to their fate almost solidified on his retinas. He vividly saw the lifeless gaze of those frail faces, how they had become numb.

As he enforced his idea of justice in a crude and brutal manner, the very people he wanted to helpthose refugeesfeared and loathed him more than the individuals he was targeting.

He began to tremble, his body and soul shaken to the core.

His mind descended into chaos.

Regretful tears mingled with the taste of blood in his mouth.

In his daze, a melody suddenly echoed in his mind.

In moments of confusion and exhaustion, this melody had pulled him out of desolation countless times, urging him to keep moving forward.

"Run forward, facing cold stares and mockery

"The vastness of life cannot be felt without enduring hardships

"Fate cannot make us kneel, even if our arms are covered in blood"

Yang Qiu opened his bloodshot eyes, gasping for breath as he spat out the blood in his mouth.

His nerves, soul, and body felt like they were being ruthlessly washed away by a turbulent, razor-sharp torrent. The pain was almost unbearable.

But his mind was clear now.

The melody he was so familiar with, the one he had loved even before his journey through time, carried all his longing for his homeland throughout the three hundred long years. It had already seeped into his very bones.

Now, it was instinctively awakened from within his bones, surging out and nourishing his will and spirit.

"The brilliance of life cannot be seen without persisting to the end

"Instead of lingering and gasping for breath, embrace it with all your heart. For the sake of the beauty in your heart, never compromise until you grow old

"I, an old man, will never compromise!"