Chapter 777 Zhuang Zhou Dreaming of a Butterfly

In winter, the village is covered with snow, like a fairy tale world.

The white snowflakes fluttered down, covering the earth with a thick layer of silver.

When they were young, they would build snowmen together, and put noses made of carrots and arms made of branches on the snowmen.

The snowman seemed to have life, standing there quietly, accompanying them through this happy time.

Then, they would play snowball fights around the snowman, and the snowballs flew in the air, accompanied by their cheerful shouts.

The shouts echoed in the cold air, as if to ignite the whole winter.

At night, everyone sat around the warm stove and listened to the old people telling ancient and mysterious stories.

There were gods and monsters in those stories, which made them intoxicated and full of curiosity and yearning for the unknown world.

There was a curious light in their eyes, as if the mysterious world was right in front of them, waiting for them to explore.

In spring, the earth revived and everything grew.

They would follow the adults to sow in the fields.

Although they were too young to understand the meaning of labor, they felt the power and hope of life on that land.

They would look for all kinds of wild flowers on the grass beside the field, weave beautiful wreaths and wear them on their heads, showing off to each other whose wreaths were more beautiful.

That brilliant smile, like a blooming flower, bloomed in the spring fields.

Those days without cultivating immortals were so simple and pure, full of endless joy and warmth.

At that time, he had no persistent pursuit of power in his heart, no hardships and ups and downs on the road of cultivation, and no unforgettable regrets and remorse.

He was just an innocent child, enjoying the most ordinary beauty in life.

Like a free bird, flying happily in the sky.

However, time is like running water, passing by in a hurry and cannot be reversed.

Those beautiful days are gone forever, like the smoke in the wind, gradually dissipating in the long river of time.

Now he is deeply trapped in this illusion, tortured by the regrets of the past.

He looked at the familiar village scene in front of him, and tears blurred his eyes involuntarily.

Those tears contained the attachment to the good old days, the longing for the deceased relatives and friends, and the helplessness and regret for the choices he had made.

How he wished he could go back to the past, choose his own life path again, and cherish the people and things that he had easily given up.

How he wished the scene in front of him would stay here.

He knew what would happen next, and he didn't want to continue watching.

However, the gears of fate turned again.

A sudden disaster came, like a dark shadow, covering the entire village.

A group of evil cultivators broke into the village. They were like demons, burning, killing, looting, and doing all kinds of evil.

The village instantly fell into chaos and panic, and the shouts and cries of the people intertwined, breaking the original tranquility.

He watched his relatives and friends fall in front of him, and the blood dyed the earth red and stung his eyes.

His heart was full of anger and hatred, and the anger was like a blazing fire, burning his reason.

That hatred, like a deeply rooted seed, grew rapidly in his heart.

He vowed to become strong and avenge them.

In his determined eyes, there was an unyielding strength.

As the picture continued to advance, the old man saw that in order to pursue power, he encountered many difficulties and setbacks on the road of cultivation.

He fell again and again, and got up again and again. The scars on his body were like the marks of time, recording his difficult journey.

He was always worried about the hatred for the destruction of the village, the grief for the death of relatives and friends, and the self-blame for his inability to protect them.

Unfortunately, until he succeeded in cultivation, he still couldn't find the cultivators who destroyed the village.

Those evil figures seemed to disappear in the vast sea of ​​people, leaving him with nowhere to vent his hatred.

These pictures constantly impacted his heart, like surging waves, hitting his fragile mental defenses wave after wave, making him gradually fall into it and unable to extricate himself.

In this illusion, he kept struggling, trying to find a way to get rid of it.

However, the road was like a path hidden in the fog, blurry and far away...

On the other side, Chen Ze took a deep breath and quietly waited for the change of the illusion to end.

As time slowly flowed like a silent stream, the scenes in the illusion became more and more real and tangible, as if they were about to break free from the shackles of illusion and become reality.

There were constantly various pictures like twinkling stars, flashing back in front of his eyes, so fast that it was dizzying.

Those pictures were bright or dark, happy or sad, interweaving into a dreamlike picture, trying to involve him in it.

However, his heart was still clear and bright at this time, like a clear spring that was not disturbed by ripples.

He could also clearly distinguish what was a dreamlike illusion and what was a reality within reach.

He knew very well that all this in front of him was just an illusory bubble, seemingly beautiful and tempting, but in fact it hid endless dangers.

Once you fall into it, you may be like falling into a bottomless swamp and never be able to extricate yourself.

Suddenly, a figure so familiar that it made his soul tremble appeared in front of him without any warning.

The moment Chen Ze saw this figure, he was struck by lightning and was stunned for a moment. The short pause seemed to freeze time.

He was so familiar with this figure, so familiar that every detail was deeply imprinted in his heart.

So familiar that just one glance could bring back countless memories of the past.

But this figure should not be here.

The memories of his previous life that had already gradually faded away, now like a surging tide, constantly surged into his heart and drowned him in an instant.

That figure was his former best friend. They had walked through their youth together and shared laughter and tears.

However, due to an accident, the trajectory of life came to an abrupt end, and they were separated from each other.

When Chen Ze just crossed over, he even thought about it in his heart.

Is it true that every person who died accidentally will cross over to another body and continue to live.

How much he hopes that his best friend can also have such an experience, even if it is just to live well in another unknown world.

His best friend's face was as warm as before, and he waved to him gently. His movements were so natural, as if calling him back to the good old days.

Chen Ze's heartbeat suddenly accelerated, like dense drum beats in his chest, and his breathing became rapid, as if the air had become thinner.

His eyes were fixed on the familiar figure, with shock, longing and confusion intertwined in his eyes.

His feet seemed to be nailed to the ground, unable to move at all, as if there was an invisible swamp under his feet, binding him tightly.

"How is this possible?" Chen Ze murmured to himself, with a tremor in his voice.

He knew clearly that this was an illusion, but the appearance of his best friend in front of him was so real, so real that he doubted his judgment.

That smile was like the warm sun in spring, warm and bright.

That look, full of the deep affection and tacit understanding of the past, was exactly the same as in his memory, without any difference.

For a moment, he couldn't even tell which world was real, as if he was in a chaotic vortex of time and space.

It was as if everything was just a dream, a dream he didn't want to wake up from.

At this moment, he seemed to really understand what Zhuang Zhou dreamed of being a butterfly, and the butterfly dreamed of Zhuang Zhou.

The blurred feeling of the interweaving of illusion and reality made his heart fall into endless struggle.