Chapter Sixty-Six: Release from Prison

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For most people, dreaming is an elusive experience. More often than not, you don’t realize you’re dreaming; you simply find yourself doing things in dreams that, upon waking, always seem inexplicably bizarre. Occasionally, you become aware that you’re dreaming, but since your mind, in its dormant state, lacks focus, you become subject to particularly intense impulses. Knowing you’re dreaming, you might want to do things in the dream that you would never dare or be able to do in reality. Yet, because the dream world is so insubstantial, it easily shatters. Once your conscious mind forms a clear intent, the very foundation of the dream begins to crumble.

After all, dreams arise from the mind, and so does your conscious will. When one side demands more from the mind, the other inevitably wanes, making it difficult to sustain both simultaneously. Thus, many people, once they realize they’re dreaming and start to act on certain desires, tend to wake up almost immediately. Paradoxically, dreams last much longer when you’re unaware they’re dreams; sometimes, even if you wake up halfway through, you can fall back asleep in a haze and the dream continues, picking up where it left off.

This is because your mind is always sustaining the world you fabricate within, but the mental strength of ordinary people is limited. It’s nearly impossible to maintain a coherent dream world while also consciously pursuing personal objectives—one must give way to the other.

Qin An’s body, though restored by the Kirin to a level exceeding that of a normal person, had only a modest improvement in spiritual strength. The greatest boost was the week of extreme basic training after obtaining the Kirin, during which he persisted in both physical and mental exhaustion. This certainly honed his willpower, but it was still not enough to support Qin An in both constructing a dream world and acting intentionally within it.

Thus, after he fainted, Qin An drifted within his dream for quite some time before suddenly realizing he was dreaming. The moment he consciously tried to understand the dream, the world began to collapse. His first attempt ended in failure; when he opened his eyes again, his head was still throbbing, and before him was the unforgettable, enigmatic face of the mysterious man—a face he could never fully recall.

Qin An opened his mouth, intending to speak, but the mysterious man gave him a strange smile. Before Qin An could react, another jolt surged through his brain, and he sank into unconsciousness once more. Just before blacking out, he managed to shout two words: “Damn it!”

Recently, Changqing City had been shaken by a massive political upheaval. The breadth of officials involved and their high ranks were unprecedented in the city’s history. It began as a routine crackdown on vice and illegal publications; a new Political and Legal Affairs Secretary always had to make some mark, and such operations occurred annually. Few, from the highest officials to the common folk, paid it much mind.

But to everyone’s astonishment, this crackdown netted a true big fish: Wang Shi, the city’s underworld overlord, known as the “Minister of the Underground,” was arrested in his seaside villa by the police.

The media would describe it only as a triumph of the campaign—a successful blow against organized crime. Yet, those in the know could scent danger in the air. Wang Shi had ruled Changqing’s underworld for at least a decade, and the same crackdown occurred every year with no effect—until now. The grounds for his arrest baffled many. It all stemmed from a simple assault case: a high school student, caught red-handed at the scene with irrefutable evidence. For the judicial authorities, it was an open-and-shut case requiring no investigation. And yet, it became the spark for the entire conflagration.

One side sought to prove the suspect’s innocence; the other refused to budge from the charge. The struggle escalated, drawing in more and more prominent figures, and soon the case’s importance rose to heights that left everyone dumbfounded. No one could have predicted that such an ordinary case would implicate so many powerful people.

From the moment Wang Shi was apprehended, the police conducted a secret interrogation and soon extracted an astonishing amount of useful information. These confessions, along with corroborating evidence collected by the police, were immediately delivered to Wei Qinghai, the Secretary of the Changqing City Party Committee.

Wei Qinghai then locked himself alone in his office for a full half hour. No one knows what he did during that time, but when he emerged, all related cases were ordered to be suspended. The implications were too great—the city’s authority was insufficient to pursue the investigation further.

Along with the suspension of proceedings, another seemingly minor directive was issued: Since clear forensic evidence showed that bodily fluids from another man, not the suspect, were found with the victim, Qin An was to be released as innocent and compensated for reputational damage suffered in detention.

At this moment, six days had passed since Qin An entered the detention center. During the first two days, he’d undergone basic training, but for the following four days, under the mysterious man’s harsh methods, he learned the so-called “art of sleeping.”

For four days straight, apart from eating, normal bodily needs, and basic physical training, all of Qin An’s time was spent unconscious. He tried to construct his dream world as the mysterious man had instructed, but his mental strength always fell short. Each time he awoke from a dream, he was promptly knocked out by the mysterious man—and so the cycle repeated.

Still, there was progress. Now, Qin An could make his dream world seem less illusory and could consciously influence the dreams. According to the mysterious man, only when his dreams became more vivid and the characters within acted independently would he have truly entered the threshold. The road ahead was long.

“2689! The boss says you’re being released!” The cell’s leader, Big Fatty, stood at the barred door, exchanged a few words with the guard, then turned and shouted.

Qin An had just woken from a dream, bracing himself as the mysterious man seemed about to knock him out again—when he suddenly heard Big Fatty’s voice. 2689 was Qin An’s inmate number, so without thinking, he flipped off his bunk and deftly dodged the mysterious man’s strike.

“Hmm, your reflexes are decent, and your body control is impressive. Kid, you’re about to be released. I don’t know why you spent a week inside, but fate brought us together. I won’t hold anything back. Once you’re out, remember to keep practicing your sleep training—it will determine how far you can go,” the mysterious man said, his tone serious rather than annoyed.

Qin An nodded. “The boss” was what inmates called guards here. Since Big Fatty had said it, Wei Dong’s side must have achieved their goal, and he was free to leave.

He bowed deeply to the mysterious man, who for once didn’t scold him, but calmly accepted the gesture.

“Well... old man, I’ll be going now. Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything about you to anyone. I don’t know why you’re hiding out here sleeping, but I suppose you don’t want certain people to find out,” Qin An said with a grin, waving as he left.

The mysterious man merely snorted softly. “Get lost, boy. At least you know what’s good for you. And don’t look for me again—just pretend I don’t exist.”

“Got it, old man. But... will we meet again someday?” Qin An asked.

“Fate decides. Who can say what the future holds?” The mysterious man waved him off and lay back down, resuming his sleep.

Qin An left in silence.