First was this ancient woman's name.
This name—or rather, any ancient person's name—was difficult to perfectly interpret using the impoverished and shallow language of Earthlings.
If it had to be explained, her name contained information precisely describing an Earth-like planet far beyond the river of stars where her ancestors had once lived: starlight shining through an atmosphere roiled by wind and thunder, illuminating clouds stretching for hundreds of miles, their refracted light shifting through ten thousand transformations.
In the language system of the Primordial Civilization, this ancient woman's name was specific down to the countless rays refracted by those clouds, even the dust motes and bird feathers dancing gracefully around the light. With its astonishing amount of information, it ensured that this was a name unique among countless stars, throughout all ages past and present.
By Earthling methods, however, she could perhaps only be simply called "Baili Tongyun."
Then, through the ceaseless, high-speed torrent of information exchanged between the Life Magnetic Field released by Baili Tongyun and the Life Magnetic Fields of her panicked, fleeing compatriots outside, Meng Chao came to partly understand the ancient people's relationship.
In a sense, they were one.
Baili Tongyun was not merely the calm, cross-legged ancient woman sitting before Meng Chao.
She was also one of those ancient people outside, panicking like headless flies, yet unable to escape their doom.
She shared part of her perceptions, part of her thoughts, and even part of her will with them.
And they did the same.
As they fled in despair, they projected a part of themselves—a part containing their final hope—into Baili Tongyun's body, making one last desperate struggle.
It was a state of you within me and me within you, something Earthlings found difficult to comprehend.
Whether "hive consciousness" or "consciousness network," both seemed able