395: Unrestrained revelry

Under Penacony's amber-like, warm, and enchanting sunlight, tourists from all corners of the Universe seemed infused with endless vitality, transforming into a colorful swarm of bees, excitedly rushing towards the various entertainment paradises meticulously prepared for them in this dreamlike land.

The air was filled with a nearly palpable factor of joy—the essence of freedom, adventure, and ultimate relaxation.

A young girl named Karen, her bare feet pressing into the fine, warm artificial white sand, felt a wonderful sensation with every step.

The boundless azure unfolded before her eyes; simulated tides brought regular sounds of waves crashing onto the beach, then quietly receded, leaving behind the faint rustle of foam and a cool dampness.

"Come on, Karen! The waves are amazing!" Her friend, Max, a bronze-skinned, experienced surfer, had already grabbed his surfboard and rushed into the waist-deep water.

Karen took a deep breath of the salty air, gathered her courage, picked up her rented colorful surfboard, and stepped into the cool water.

When an artificial wave peak nearly two meters high formed in the distance and surged towards her, she felt her heart pound in her chest. Recalling her instructor's guidance, she paddled vigorously, and just as the wave was about to engulf her, she suddenly pushed herself up!

In an instant, the world seemed to accelerate.

The surfboard under her feet cut steadily into the wave face, and the immense thrust of the water lifted her, propelling her at high speed along the tunnel-like space formed by the curling wave.

Splashes of water hit her face, bringing a cool sensation, while the roar of the waves and the whistle of the wind filled her ears. She struggled to maintain her balance, reveling in the ultimate thrill of confronting and mastering the simulated power of nature.

Meanwhile, at the majestic snow-capped mountains on the other side of the resort, a professional skier from the northern lands stood at the starting point of the race track.

Taking a deep breath of the cold, crisp air, he pushed off forcefully with his ski poles, his body shooting out like an arrow released from a bow. The steep slope descended almost vertically, yet his body seemed to merge with his skis.

He carved sharp turns between the gates, the kicked-up snow sparkling like diamond dust in the sunlight.

At a nearly ninety-degree sharp turn, his body tilted extremely, the metal edges of his skis carving deep arcs in the snow, almost touching the ground, yet at the brink of losing control, he was forcefully pulled back by his powerful core strength, continuing to charge towards the next bend.

This thrill of skirting the edge of the extreme was the highest enjoyment he sought... However, while these exciting activities were exhilarating, for tourists seeking a deeper experience, they were merely appetizers. The true attraction lay in the "Golden Hour" located within Hotel Reverie.

After paying a hefty sum of credit points that would make an ordinary wage earner gasp, they were led to their respective luxury suites.

The interior of the suite was the epitome of futurism and comfort, but undoubtedly the most striking feature was the large, circular hot spring pool in the center of the room, emanating a faint blue glow.

The pool water was crystal clear, as if containing fragments of stars; it was not ordinary hot spring water, but a specially formulated medium infused with pure "Dreamstuff" substance.

It was not only a Saint Grade for relaxing the body and mind but also the only bridge connecting reality and dreams, leading to the "Golden Hour."

Harold Winston, a financial magnate from Skyreach City, shed his expensive custom suit and slowly sank his somewhat portly body into the hot spring.

The water temperature was just right, like a lover's embrace, instantly dispelling all the fatigue he had accumulated from battling in the business world.

Even more wondrously, the blue-glowing pool water seemed to possess life, gently massaging every inch of his skin, and he could even feel faint, cool energy slowly seeping into his body through his open pores, flowing towards his brain.

Following the guided instructions, he relaxed his mind, allowing his consciousness to gradually blur and detach in this ultimate comfort... He didn't know how much time had passed, perhaps an instant, perhaps an eternity. A slight dizziness, as if passing through some viscous boundary, swept over him.

Harold found himself no longer immersed in the hot spring.

He was sitting on a rustic yet sturdy long bench, in a tranquil park where time seemed to stand still.

The afternoon sun filtered through layers of colorful leaves, casting dappled light and shadow on the ground. A gentle breeze not only brought the fresh scent of grass and damp earth but also carried the rich fragrance of roses and lavender from a distant flowerbed, so real that he instinctively took a deep breath.

There was no one else around, only the occasional crisp bird song breaking the silence. This was the absolute haven of peace he had long yearned for in his deepest heart.

Here, solitude became an enjoyment, and thoughts could extend infinitely.

And those of brave nature found themselves suspended above the clouds.

For instance, Sarah, a female general from a border defense legion of a certain kingdom, was experiencing a completely different sensation.

The moment her consciousness detached from the hot spring, what she felt was not a smooth transition, but a sudden plummeting sensation of weightlessness!

She found herself suspended above the clouds at an altitude of ten thousand meters, with the tiny yet clear contours of the earth beneath her feet. Strong air currents buffeted her body, and wisps of clouds brushed against her skin like cold silk.

She didn't panic; instead, she let out a long, excited cry. She closed her eyes, spread her arms, and fully embraced the unrestrained free fall, adrenaline surging through her virtual veins.

When she opened her eyes again, the anticipated impact did not bring the pain of being shattered to pieces.

She found herself standing steadily in a kneeling posture on a soft patch of grass, as if the breathtaking fall she had just experienced was merely an illusion.

Only the shallow, neatly edged pit on the ground where she had "landed" proved that the physics-defying experience had indeed occurred.

She stood up, brushed off non-existent dust from her clothes, and a childlike smile of satisfaction and excitement appeared on her face.

This experience of turning the impossible into "reality" was the core pleasure she sought.

And this was merely the tip of the iceberg of the "Golden Hour's" infinite possibilities.

Here, tourists' consciousness could seamlessly connect to any fantastical script designed by top teams and co-created by their own subconscious.

A timid office worker in reality could become a Dragon-slaying hero lauded by bards here.

He could feel the weight and coldness of the Holy Sword in his hand, smell the sulfur and scorched earth of the Dragon's lair, hear the air vibrate from the Dragon's deafening roar, and even feel the immense recoil that numbed his hand when clashing with its giant claws.

Every dodge, every strike was incredibly real, and the joy and sense of accomplishment after victory were enough to wash away all the grievances of reality.

An enthusiast of ancient military history could strategize here. Standing on the commanding platform, beneath him were a hundred thousand soldiers, neatly arrayed, their armor gleaming.

He could clearly see the distant, towering enemy city and feel the tension and Strictly kill before a major battle.

When he waved the command flag and gave the order to charge, the magnificent sight of a thousand armies surging forth like a tide, along with the earth-shattering battle cries and the roar of siege engines that followed, brought an ultimate sense of satisfaction in controlling history and becoming a legend.

Even those who yearned for the mystical legends of the East could experience the leisurely life of "Flying Sword travel, touring the North Sea in the morning and Cangwu in the evening."

With a thought, they could step on a Flying Sword or auspicious cloud, their figures transforming into a streak of light, soaring through mist-shrouded immortal mountains and majestic peaks.

They could overlook the picturesque rivers, lakes, pavilions, and towers below. They could meditate by a Spiritual Qi spring waterfall, feeling the warmth and fullness of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi flowing into their Dantian, experiencing a life of cultivating immortality, subsisting on dew and long life.

Here, people could temporarily and completely forget the pressures, worries, class barriers, and physical constraints of real life.

The "Golden Hour" became a huge social pressure release valve, an incubator of dreams, a place where everyone, starting on an absolutely equal footing—at least in the world of consciousness—could redefine themselves and experience the ultimate paradise of infinite possibilities.

This unique value propelled Penacony and its core "Golden Hour" to become, within a single day, the sole entertainment Holy Land in the currently explored Universe.