Night Rain

Six-thirty in the morning.

Xu Yuan gradually stopped throwing punches and lay back down on the sofa.

Another line of faintly glowing text appeared and remained still:

"The inheritance has fully unfolded."

"Congratulations."

"You have obtained an ancient authentic text of the fundamental source art underlying Sword-Flight Art: the Dual-Spirit Sword-Flight Secret Art, 'Night Rain' (incomplete)."

"Description: Use this sword art to condense Spiritual Thought Threads of one or two Spiritual Power attributes. Control one or two blades from a distance, or three, four, five, up to ten, and execute any sword technique."

"—Through the night, I listened to spring rain from a little tower."

Xu Yuan knew none of this.

He lay on the sofa without moving, though his eyelids trembled faintly and rapidly.

He looked as if he were dreaming.

Then his alarm went off.

"Ah!"

Xu Yuan cried out, sprang off the sofa, and froze.

He had just had an incredibly long dream.

Countless swords had flown back and forth in it. All he could do was watch; he had no idea how to seize one for himself.

He wanted one so badly that he had racked his brains for a way to control them.

Then he had thought up technique after technique, secret after secret.

And then he woke up!

"...So it was a dream. Am I a genius? Can I figure all that out in my sleep?"

Xu Yuan muttered to himself.

He glanced into the empty air without thinking.

All the messages from last night were still there, motionless. Only after he had read them did they slowly fade.

Xu Yuan felt a pang of embarrassment.

He had not, after all, come up with thousands upon thousands of sword techniques on his own.

He had been receiving an inheritance!

In his sleep,