Chapter 225 — Drifting into Dreams with the Wind
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 3
Gao Song's heart pounded. He vaguely realized what kind of place he had entered, but before he could carefully observe the "residents" moving about the city, someone tapped him on the shoulder from the side.
Gao Yang forcibly suppressed the urge to counterattack on the spot and expose himself. He turned his head calmly and looked curiously at the person who had tapped his shoulder—a young man of striking, extraordinary handsomeness, who was in turn looking at him with curiosity.
Before Gao Yang could decide how to speak, the young man took the initiative: "I thought I was seeing things for a moment—but it really is the image of Gao Yang Cecil? You look a lot like the portrait!"
Gao You's heart jolted at the words "Gao Yang Cecil," and he thought he had been exposed—but hearing the rest, he instantly caught on: thank heavens for his experience with games in his past life, for he immediately guessed what the other meant by "image."
The "residents" of the city of Xuanque had designed their own images in this world?
He looked around and immediately concluded his guess must be right—because the real world could not possibly have that many handsome guys.
And the real world certainly could not have scorpion-tailed people who had been extinct for thousands of years.
What was this, then? A large-scale immersive game created by the Sleepers...? These cultists had secretly cobbled together something this cool? This art style... this art style was nothing like anything he had seen since transmigrating!
But all these thoughts merely flashed through Gao Yang's mind; outwardly, he smiled faintly without a trace of abnormality: "Just trying something new now and then."
"Not bad, not bad—the image of Gao Yang Cecil does deserve to be called heroic," the extraordinarily handsome young man laughed. "But there's no need to keep that full beard. It makes you look too old. I think the portrait Gao Yang Cecil left when he was twenty-five looks better than his memorial portrait..."
What did the beard ever do to you! What did the memorial portrait ever do to you! And Gao Yang Cecil had clawed his way out of his coffin more than half a year ago—that portrait can't be called a memorial portrait anymore, don't you understand!
Gao Yang's eye twitched. He forcibly suppressed the urge to beat up this young man who looked handsome and amiable but who, heaven knew, was actually some savage, vicious cultist. After a few perfunctory words with a smile that did not reach his eyes, he quickly walked away.
Head lowered, he moved swiftly through the gorgeous, broad streets of this incredible city, and at last found an empty corner.
Once out of the cultists' line of sight, the first thing he did was find a way to hide his true appearance.
Although one cultist had seen his face without becoming suspicious, even taking it for some special "personal preference," Gao Heng dared not risk parading his own face around this "virtual world"—which was very likely created by Sleepers networking human brains together. After all, he had devoured a fairly high-ranking Sleeper, and his face was far too likely to draw hatred.
He was not a Sleeper, but the one he had devoured had left him a precious trove of knowledge. Gao Yang still remembered how, in the dream world before, he had created things out of thin air with his will—and in this world, he found that creation by will had become even easier than last time.
Several minutes later, a tall young man with short pale-gold hair walked out from the corner of an alley.