When You Become A Target Of The Martial God Heavenly Emperor [Tian Guan Ci Fu]

Chapter 17

He rarely had dreams anymore; his sleep was now a dull necessity solely for the function of regaining energy.

So when a loud thump shocked him awake, he half-expected to see a roof or building crumbling atop of him, his nerves going taut as he prepared himself to act on a whim. Not an enclosed, tightly-bounded cover that locked him inside of a casing. He just blinked for a moment, dumbfounded at the unexpected sight. 

Soft silk pressed against his skin, and flowers were littered around his body as though they were tossed inside pile after pile. Although faint, the scent of dried lilies and chrysanthemums still lingered in the entrapped space. His gaze shifts slightly. Small and large envelopes were inserted beside him, fastened with a worn-down string.

His hand was folded over his other hand, lying flaccidly on his stomach.

Unexpected. It was an unexpected sight and an even more unexpected location to have a rare dream. But preferable to the hell WuYong had become. Carter makes no act to move, content in his listless position as he just stares blankly, not paying any particular attention to anything. There was finally silence; a rather deafening, solemn one, but it was better than the constant screaming. 

Anything was better than that.

Thump!

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He awakens in a cold sweat, alerted by a loud, guttural sound in the distance. He squints his eyes at a moving blob in the corner of the room, already getting to his knees if he ever needed to dash away at a moment's notice. But when the specks of coloured dots finally fade from his once-blurred sight, the blob starts to shift, growing arms and legs like that of a human, and patches of reddish skin begin to taint those deformed shapes like a child slapping paint on a blank canvas. 

And all that remained was a person, a completely normal person, just snoring and groaning in their sleep. Carter blinks, wondering if he is still in the dream realm rather than reality.

He stares a while longer, only realising a second later that he is not completely alone, his eyes gazing over the rows of sleeping citizens, all caked with dirt and dried blood. Some had even lost a few limbs, the missing parts hastily bounded with old bandages. 

Carter had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. 

There was not a single person who looked unscathed, not one who was able to escape the bounds of a war they couldn't possibly defeat. If it had been as nightmarish as he had imagined, then he must've underestimated too much of the unknown. No matter the will, no matter how much he knew- he clasps a hand tightly over his mouth, a tremble raking through his body - it couldn't possibly prepare him for such an ugly outcome.

I already knew this would happen, he thought, what is wrong with me?

His eyes shut, his hand unconsciously flapping the front of his clothing. It provided little ventilation to the suffocating environment but he was too tired, too overwhelmed to pay any more attention to his uncontrolled actions. 

It was ironic that way, he had always wanted to control even the tiniest part of his second-lived life, but the chance always slipped through his fingers like sand. As though there was no chance, no choice of another route since the beginning. It seems nothing has changed.