The moment Xia Lun opened his eyes, he knew this dream was different.
In past dreams, everything he saw and heard had been a hazy illusion. Only the training had taken shape as ink-black shadows. This time, he could clearly smell the fresh scent of grass shoots, hear thunderous shouting, and see heraldic banners fluttering between the battlements.
This dream felt so real it was almost indistinguishable from a Special Memory!
Xia Lun grew alert. In his experience, a dream like this might not be a Special Memory, but it could still grant him a Specialty or even a skill.
Tempting as the rewards were, he first had to find the dream's original owner's "regret" and prevent it. In a Special Dream, though, he could use neither skills nor Specialties. Even his attributes would fall to the original owner's level. All he could rely on were his own Wisdom and Specializations.
As Xia Lun pondered this, a metal gauntlet reeking of wine suddenly swung at his head.
By reflex, he moved to draw his sword and strike back. At the last instant, he forced himself to stop and merely raised a hand to rest it lightly on the attacker's wrist.
Clack.
"Afdan, hic, what are you staring into space for?" came a drunken man's voice. "You brat, listen when I'm talking to you!" Xia Lun lowered his hand and looked down. Before him stood an old man with a deeply wrinkled face and a bright-red drinker's nose.
Xia Lun paused, then recognized him as the old knight of the order who had taught "Afdan" throughout the dream. In the sketchy memories made of shadows and lines, the knight had seemed stern, rigid, and humorless. In full color, he appeared rather less respectable.
"Ahem." The old knight coughed to cover his