A strange yet perfectly fitting phrase surfaced in Qingmu's mind— the Dugu Qiubai!
It's hard to imagine what could possibly rival such a powerful wolf in this world— Africa? Siberia tiger? Or Arctic?
The gunshots that followed reminded Qingmu that there was a species a hundred times more ferocious and intelligent than lions and tigers: humans.
Clearly, the white wolf was more attractive to the hunters. They fired a few shots and then drove the sled dogs back toward the cliff on the left.
The White Wolf King did not run away; it simply watched coldly as bullets whizzed through the sky. As the crowd drew closer and entered the range of the bullets, the White Wolf King seemed to sense the danger. It stretched its neck and let out a long howl. The gray wolves still in the ravine seemed to have received some kind of command and ran towards the foot of the mountain on the right, disappearing into the vast snow in the blink of an eye.
The hunters ignored the fleeing wolves and instead surrounded the white wolf on three sides, with the remaining side being a cliff. The white wolf raised its head and looked at the surrounding silvery-white land, seemingly glancing casually in the direction of Hong Zhenlong.
Qingmu saw deep longing and loneliness in its eyes.
Hong Zhenlong's face showed pain, and his blue eyes were bloodshot, as if he were watching his own family member being tortured.
Anger flared up from his chest, setting his clothes and skin ablaze, and soon he was a human torch.
In the light of the flames, Qingmu saw a clear shadow in the snow beneath his feet and slowly stood up.
Suddenly, Hong Zhenlong seemed to have gone mad, his body engulfed in flames, as he charged forward with all his might, trying to rush into that expanse of ice and snow.
Qingmu sensed an invisible barrier between him, Hong Zhenlong, and the icy world. The moment Hong Zhenlong rushed through it, an extremely strong shockwave was generated. At the same time, Qingmu felt a sudden heaviness all over his body, as if he were being swept into a raging flood and could not breathe. The mass of the surrounding world seemed to have increased a thousandfold.
Qingmu understood that the icy world was definitely not Hong Zhenlong's dream, but for some reason, Hong Zhenlong's dream had connected to another space, or rather, overlapped with that space. The moment he rushed over, the barrier between the two spaces disappeared, and a huge amount of spatial mass was transferred over, Hong Zhenlong's Mental Power could not withstand.
As expected, Hong Zhenlong's dream collapsed.
Qingmu stepped back and saw Hong Zhenlong leaning against the window, his eyes bloodshot and his whole body trembling. Suddenly, he reached out and broke off the half-open window, smashing it to the ground with a crack, making a "woo-woo" sound, and then pounced on Qingmu like a ferocious god.
Qingmu braced himself against Hong Zhenlong's arm and discovered that the thin old man was surprisingly strong; he almost couldn't hold on.
Hong Kui, who was standing nearby, seemed to have been prepared. He called out "Father" and hugged Hong Zhenlong from behind, gesturing for Qingmu to run.
Having gained a fairly good understanding of Hong Zhenlong's situation, Qingmu used his unparalleled Mental Power to hypnotize him directly.
The old man was still panting heavily, but his eyes were already closed; he had fallen asleep. Qingmu reached out and touched him, finding his forehead burning hot, as if it were on fire.
Hong Kui probably didn't expect his father to settle down so quickly, and looked at Qingmu with some doubt.
Qingmu said, "Help him to bed first."
Hong Kui helped Hong Zhenlong to bed and then asked, "Doctor, are you alright?"
Qingmu said, "I'm fine. But I'm not a doctor. My name is Qingmu, you can just call me by my name."
Hong Kui frowned, slightly displeased that Qingmu suddenly denied being a doctor. However, he was clearly well-mannered and did not reprimand him. He simply said calmly, "Mr. Qingmu, you just said that all you needed to do was put my father to sleep. Now that my father is asleep, if you don't have a better treatment plan, then please leave."
Qingmu was somewhat surprised by Hong Kui's attitude. When he arrived, Huang Ziqiang's cautious demeanor made him think that this North America gang leader would be difficult to deal with. However, upon meeting him, he found that he was not only not a fierce and menacing person, but also very gentlemanly, even more so than a member of a prominent family like Xia Wenyuan.
In comparison, Huang Ziqiang was far inferior, not to mention self-righteous thugs like Jiang Deqian.
Even though they had given him the hint to leave, Qingmu didn't want to go so soon. The old man's dream was just too peculiar. Putting aside the shadow in the dream, the sheer size of the dream space that contained that icy world was something no ordinary person could create. In fact, in Qingmu's current understanding, it couldn't possibly be a dream of a single person.
What exactly did the dreams of William Wolf, the most prominent Chinese gang leader in North America, connect to?
"Please allow me to ask a few questions," he said.
"Please speak," Hong Kui said, showing no impatience.
"Do you, or rather, people in your family, dream of that white wolf when you have an attack?" Qingmu asked.
Now it was Hong Kui's turn to be shocked. He looked at Qingmu in astonishment and asked, "How... how did you know?" He then looked back at his father on the bed, as if he had realized something, but he found it even more unbelievable, "Could it be that just now... you... my father..."
Qingmu smiled and said, "That's a bit complicated, I'll tell you later. Now, please answer my question."
Hong Kui quickly regained his composure and said, "Yes, I dream about it every time. This was originally a family secret, and very few people outside know about it."
"Family secret?" Aoki asked doubtfully, "Why keep it a secret? Don't you all tell the doctor?"
Hong Kui said, "I don't know either. It's supposedly an ancestral rule. But actually, it's not that nobody knows. The family invited several very famous experts to study our situation before, and they believed it might be a genetic hereditary neurological disease."
Qingmu then asked, "Have you ever seen your own reflection in your dreams?"
"What?" Hong Kui looked puzzled. "A shadow? I've never really noticed that before."
Qingmu knew that normal people wouldn't pay attention to whether they had a shadow in their dreams, so Hong Kui shouldn't be the target of his consciousness intrusion. He changed the subject. "Your father's illness has worsened recently, hasn't it?"
"Yes, about six months."
"Has anything unusual happened before this?"
"Special? What aspect are you referring to that's particularly special?" Hong Kui asked.
"Any aspect—life, relationships, business, fun... anything, as long as you find it special, something that doesn't happen often."
"Well, before his condition worsened, he was fine in his daily life, but something happened within the club that upset my father. How... has that had an impact?"
"It's hard to say right now," Qingmu said. "Do you know anyone named Ronald Cohen?"
" Cohen? You mean Ronald Cohen, the chairman of the Dream Foundation?" Hong Kui thought for a moment. "You mentioning him reminds me of something."
"My father is a collector. Years ago, he took a fancy to a Picasso painting, which was in the hands of Michael Jones in Las Vegas at the time, but Cohen beat him to it and bought it for $150 million. At that time, that price was ridiculously high."
"My father had always been resentful about this and contacted Cohen several times to try to buy the painting back from him, but they couldn't agree on a price each time. Last year, Cohen finally agreed, and my father paid a deposit. But unexpectedly, just when he was about to go to New York to get the painting back, Cohen suddenly changed his mind and said that the painting had already been sold to a China person."
"My father was initially very angry and intended to teach Cohen a lesson, but Cohen sent over another painting, Monet, at a very low price, saying it was compensation for my father. Just then, something happened within the club, so my father accepted the painting and didn't pursue the matter further."