Pretending To Be A Boss

After telling the story, Li Xiaoyu didn't go straight back but sat at the observation deck for a while. Discover stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Nothing particularly interesting happened; she often did this, quietly thinking about all sorts of things.

Later, accompanied by Tang Xian, Li Xiaoyu left the third level.

Tang Xian himself returned to the ground floor. The time was approaching midnight.

The Pyramid had neither curfew nor night patrols, those ancient rules.

Tang Xiaojiu was staying at Qiao Shanshan's house, which was a relief since he felt at ease with the girls living together.

After all, the security on the third level was much better.

After washing up, Tang Xian took out his diary and started recording some information.

Having fulfilled Li Xiaoyu's request, Tang Xian was sure that the moment for humans to directly engage with the creatures of the mining area was imminent.

He planned to write a detailed account of the weaknesses and strategies for dealing with the creatures of the mining area in a short period of time.

Based on his combat experience with many creatures in the mining area, Tang Xian was now convinced of one thing: his theoretical knowledge of the creatures wasn't purely theoretical.

It was as if some battle memories were etched into his genes; he always knew what to do right away.

But it was almost impossible for other people to have this kind of practical ability.

This might have something to do with his own talents.

But now was not the time to research talents. The Zutton Holy Tree wouldn't be the only one, and there were other creatures that had lived longer or knew more.

For instance, the Endless Turtle, originally thought to be a creature of myths and legends.

Tang Xian was very interested in this mysterious prophetic turtle and had listed it as his next target after the events on the Yuepela Plains.

Of course, a primary reason was that turtle soup was highly nourishing.

The tip of his pen moved rapidly across the pages of the diary, and by the time Tang Xian had listed the possible calamitous and perfect creatures that might appear on the Pelar Plains, the sky had already begun to brighten.

Not long after he put the pen down, Tang Xian fell into a deep sleep.

The events of the day were not plentiful, but they made him feel somewhat exhausted.

Tang Xian slept soundly.

Yet his consciousness entered a firmly-rooted dreamscape.

...

...

Memories of many things might be forgotten, but that doesn't mean they've disappeared.

They might show themselves as the tip of the iceberg in some bizarre dream.

Tang Xian was walking with his father in an unknown part of what should be the mining world, asking, "Where are we going?"

"To a place that humans have yet to name," his father's voice carried a wisp of vagueness.

Tang Xian realized no matter how much he quickened his pace, he couldn't keep up with his father's steps; he could only see his father's back.

Something occurred to him faintly.

Half a year before he was sent to the third level, news had come that his parents had gone missing in the mining area.

Missing, never to return.

Unlike other adventurers' disappearances, going missing in the mining area was tantamount to death, without exception.

Because if you couldn't return to the Pyramid within seven days, it was all over.

By relying on his wits and the identity of a child, he had weathered the bottom level for half a year, accustomed to the wicked side of human nature, before finally getting the opportunity to move to the third level.

The dreamscape was tinged with a silvery gray.

It seemed to carry the implication of death.

Tang Xian found the surroundings in his dream to be incredibly chaotic.

There were many plants he had seen and had not seen before. These plants were giant, yet they clung to the remnants of human constructions.

These buildings were familiar to him; they didn't belong to the Pyramid, they came from beyond the Pyramid.

In the distance, figures that resembled humans came and went.

Yes, shadows. They looked just like humans, but only had black silhouettes.

There were also many strange and dangerous animals.

Suddenly, a dragon's roar came from the sky.

Tang Xian looked up and saw a huge figure weaving through the clouds in the sky. Its scales resembled crystals.

In the distance, the long howl of a fox could be faintly heard.

"Father, where is this?" he asked.

"This is the borderland between two worlds."

Although he ought to have asked other questions, in the dream, his consciousness was focused on the dream itself.

Tang Xian just felt that this place was utterly different from the mining area he was familiar with.

He had never had such a dream before; even in dreams, everything tended to follow logic, and almost always involved familiar things.

But this dream was too strange.

Humans who were like shadows.

Weird and dangerous animals.

Unknown plants and the ruins of buildings.

The distant fox howl and the dragon's roar in the sky.

All these gave him an incredibly foreign feeling.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cry of a baby.

For some reason, Tang Xian felt the baby's cries were tinged with unease and panic.

He was unusually afraid.

Everything in his eyes disappeared abruptly; the guide that was his father, the surrounding scenery, the mighty creatures—all seemed to be dust blown away by the wind.

In the blank white world, only the headless statue remained.

The style of the statue had some resemblances to Ancient Greek sculptures. But judging by its sheen, it didn't seem like a typical plaster sculpture.

A headless bust, an intact body, and within its arms, a baby was cradled.

The baby let out bursts of crying.

Tang Xian felt the crying to be so familiar.

He approached the statue step by step.

Yet, the crying became weaker and weaker.

Until he stood in front of the statue and took the baby out of the statue's arms, the baby had already quieted down completely.

It quietly looked at Tang Xian.

Its lips moved slightly, but instead of crying, it spoke in a language familiar to Tang Xian.

That voice was even more ethereal than his father's had been. It seemed to resonate at the tips of countless nerves simultaneously.