Ye Wei dreamt for a long time: he dreamt about the first year of history, the Grand Descent, about how the Sages surveyed Mystic Mount, about them gaining understanding of the mystic runes and creating three thousand mystic stances, he dreamt about the Sword Master refining demon remains and then forging them into mystic arms, and lastly he dreamt of the Combat Master dictating the mystic scrolls, which were then spread all over the world.
Ye Wei’s mind kept wandering as the dream seemed to carry on for centuries.
Meanwhile, Lin Zi Yan was still lecturing and explaining the inner workings of mystic runes. Her lecture was vivid, she tried to make the students understand how much the Three Sages’ attributes mean to the world, as they know them. By appropriately referencing some classical volumes she was doing a great job of keeping the attention of the class. Except our one and only Ye Wei.
“Is this kid planning on ever waking up?”
Miss Zi Yan glanced towards the back of the room, her stare clearly expressed how displeased she was with Ye Wei as he had already slept half the lesson away, despite her best efforts to make a bland topic sound relevant and interesting. But all this meant as little to Ye Wei as pearls do to pigs.