A normal nap shouldn't have been uncomfortable.
Yet the man felt nothing but the wrongness of it, like he was sleeping where he shouldn't be.
All he felt was the windy breeze of the night and the itchiness of grass.
Wait a minute. . . Grass?
The man immediately opened his eyes as a burst of energy surged around him, causing the animals to scatter away in fear. He got up from the ground and dusted himself as he observed his surroundings.
It was a dense forest with very tall trees. That much is obvious. But what truly caught his eye were the unfamiliar plants he could spot despite the dense forestry.
Additionally, the energy around him felt much denser and. . . Purer than the energy he was used to feeling.
"Where is this place?" The man wondered with a frown. "This isn't China..."
A whole different world, familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.
China, but not really it either...
---
Ying Shouren, the Guardian Spirit of China and former emperor of the ROC, woke up in a world that he had no information about.
He checked himself.
He's still dead.
He's unsure if he should be reassured or not. After all, he had been dead for over 70 years and had long been accustomed to being a spirit.
Ying Shouren wondered if his powers could still be used here, so he decided to test it out himself.
He placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled, summoning his spectral warhorse, Yulong.
The black warhorse that had accompanied him throughout his life and has followed him since his death.
In the next second, a loud yet familiar whinny echoed through the forest as Yulong approached majestically, its black coat shimmering with otherworldly energy.
Ying Shouren smiled with relief as he stroked the horse's mane, comforted by its steady presence. "At least you are still here..."
Yulong nickered softly, lowering its head as if waiting for his next command.
With a smooth, practised movement, he mounted Yulong and urged him forwards. The spectral warhorse was eager to be of use, and he moved with a grace belying his ghostly nature.
As he pushed through the foliage, Ying Shouren noticed more differences between this world and the one he knew. The birdsong was ever so slightly unfamiliar, and the air held an odd undercurrent, as if the very fabric of reality was a hairsbreadth off from his own.
As he rode, one question gnawed at him: Where was he now?