C117 (1/2)

When Lin Jin woke up, he was surprised to find that he was in a completely pitch black space. There was no light, no sound, and not even the ground under his feet could be felt. He wanted to reach out his hand to feel around, but he realized that he didn't even have a body left, what existed was only a ball of consciousness.

He wanted to move, but no matter how he moved, no matter which direction he moved in, he did not feel any signs of moving.

Moreover, he could clearly feel that this darkness was still slowly but surely compressing and gathering towards his position. The space around him also became more and more oppressive, so heavy that he could not believe that he was still alive.

However, for some reason, when faced with such a pitch-black darkness, he did not panic in the slightest, nor did he panic in the slightest. Although he felt that it was a bit strange, he faintly felt that it was natural.

Let him just be cold and calm and feel it all...

In this incomparably oppressive darkness, even an instant would seem like a very long moment, and a very long time would also seem like an instant.

At first he thought about it, about why he was there, about how he was going to get out, but soon he realized that it was futile, that he wanted to move his limbs, that he had no limbs, that he wanted to fly out of the darkness with his mind, that he had been flying for ten, a hundred, a thousand years, and yet he felt as if he were not moving at all, that there was no movement of air, that there was no contrast, that he thought he was moving, but in the end he did not know whether he was moving or not, and he wanted to enlarge and shrink himself, but no matter how he enlarged and shrank, all around him was black and empty, and there was nothing but the sense of being tiny himself.

He wanted to scream again, but he didn't. Even if he shouted out loud, he wouldn't even be able to hear his own voice. Thus, in the end, he could only think and recall.

Fortunately, for some unknown reason, he did not feel any irritation, fear, sadness, pain, happiness or any other emotions. What remained was only a little bit of curiosity. This allowed him to persist in this space.

He didn't know if a year had passed, or if it was a thousand years, but he was also recalling the memories. From the earliest memory, until the moment he was enveloped in white light.

Then there was thinking, thinking about everything: the meaning of animals, the meaning of plants, the meaning of inanimate objects, the meaning of life. The meaning of emotion, the meaning of the world, and the meaning of existence.

After a long time of reminiscing and thinking, he had learned to forget again, to forget everything that had happened. This included forgetting his own existence and facing this pitch-black and dreary scene like a stone.

Then, when a thought suddenly occurred to him, he began to recall and think again. And then oblivion again — he didn't know what else he could do in this space where there was nothing at all to remember, to think, to forget.

He was not a philosopher or a wise man, but in this seemingly endless time, he thought over everything he had ever seen, felt, and felt. Then, all doubts and confusion.

And the pursuit of cultivation had become unimportant. After an unknown period of time, even if it was survival or destruction, it had become meaningless!

His consciousness, in this constant thinking and forgetting, became chaotic and resolute.

However, he had recently discovered something more interesting. His heart, which had been still for a long time, had become somewhat more active.

That was. He discovered that the pressure from the outside seemed to have increased, and the compression speed also seemed to have increased. He just didn't know what it would be like in the end.

This discovery. The consciousness which caused him to be unable to sense anything other than emptiness and darkness actually had a sort of joyous feeling.