Darkness, deathly stillness, chaos, void.
This was the bottom layer of the world, the place where all things ended and perished. Everything would be broken down into its most fundamental information, ultimately assimilated into a part of the deep sea.
Luo Chuan, in the form of ink, gradually sank deeper.
What lay at the end of the deep sea?
No one knew the answer to that question.
Reality? Illusion? Dreams? Truth?
All established concepts were utterly out of place here. As the absolute forbidden zone of life, it had existed in silence since ancient times.
Time seemed to have lost all meaning.
Luo Chuan did not know exactly how long had passed.
Perhaps an hour, perhaps a day, a month, a year...
At first, he had still been in the mood to let his thoughts wander, recalling all sorts of things to pass the time.
For instance, the plots of novels.
He believed that most authors shared this habit.
Whenever they were in a quiet place, with no one else around and nothing they wanted to do, they would replay the stories of their novels in their minds.
They would recall why they had made certain settings in the first place, and what foreshadowing they had buried.
How the later plot should unfold, and how new characters should appear.
There were many things to consider.
Though he had no outline and never wrote one, that did not mean no outline existed. It was simply stored in his mind in an intangible form.
At every moment, it was being sketched out and refined, guiding the story along its proper course.
Afterward, he began imagining his future life with Yao Ziyan, as well as Origin Mall's future direction.
When the barriers between worlds vanished, the three stores would merge, and customers would