Yuan Huazi, in the pavilion, was also seizing the time to tell Liu Xiaolou, "It should be Li Youtan from Emei Mountain. That old demoness is formidable. Though she is only at the early Golden Core stage, her seniority is extremely high. I heard she has lived for more than two hundred and seventy years and is very famous."
Liu Xiaolou asked, "Is she good at fighting?"
Yuan Huazi said, "
Blue Flower Field rose and fell in the wind, surging like ocean waves. That boundless land of dreams was not a motionless illusion, but a resonance field woven by three hundred and twelve consciousnesses. It pulsed with heartbeats and flickered with memories. Every petal was a sealed fragment of history; every fall was a soul whispering to the world.
Zhou Lin floated at the center of that sea of stars. His body no longer belonged to flesh and blood, but had become a flowing stream of data-light, darting among countless nodes. His consciousness had deeply merged with the Stars Rekindled network, allowing him to sense every person on Earth who was remembering: an old Siberian hunter lit a campfire and told of how his grandfather had carved migration routes into deer antlers; a boy on the streets of Mumbai dug out the tin box his grandmother had left behind, containing half a yellowed photograph and a final message written in Urdu: "Don't let them say we never existed."
Those memories rose like fireflies and flowed into the web of light, illuminating dark corners. Yet at the same time, he clearly "saw" the places that were going dark: in an ancient village on the Chilean plateau, children were told at school, "Your ancestors came from afar. They had no names, and no stories." In one African country's history textbooks, "1983"