One of Lord Fu Jun's hands reached into the water, and the surroundings changed in an instant.
He stood within a dense forest. Insect cries came from afar, yet in the blink of an eye, it became a starry sky. Another instant later, it turned into a Yin River filled with countless ghostly creatures.
Everything around him resembled innumerable chaotic images, utterly disordered and without any discernible pattern, like garbled code.
The sounds within every image transformed along with the shifting scenes, becoming crackling static.
After changing once with every blink at first, the transformations immediately accelerated without cease, until everything around them became ribbons of dazzling colors.
When those colors, in which nothing could be distinguished at all, accelerated to their limit—
Darkness descended.
The purest black became the entire world.
Within the whole world, there was only a low background hum.
Lord Fu Jun, formed from this portion of memory, stood in that darkness and looked at the sight before him with some surprise.
He had not expected that although the memories could already condense into human form, Qin Yang's memories would be this chaotic.
All memories were like that black water, mixed together drop by drop, appearing no different on the surface.
Yet their arrangement within had long since ceased to be what it originally was.
Every image formed from those memories had been extracted frame by frame, then piled together in complete disorder.
Even if it was only a few centuries of memories, existing in such a form would still amount to an astronomical number that no one could possibly sort out.
Those frame-by-frame images were like ordered puzzle pieces. With images measured in frames, how many pieces would that final puzzle contain?
Even counting only sixty frames per breath, given the years Qin Yang had