Transition

Zhong Minglou's thinking had clearly slowed.

Because his thinking organ had maxed out the amount of information it could process per unit of time.

It was like driving while fatigued.

The information load was too great; his processing capacity was completely overloaded.

Scenery that had seemed far away would suddenly flash before his eyes in the blink of an eye.

Moreover, his vision kept intermittently "blacking out and freezing." His brain would wander from time to time. To him, those were imperceptible instants, but several seconds had actually already passed.

The other scenery in his field of vision seemed to be teleporting. The entire Observable Universe appeared to have blurred, thoroughly becoming a mass of bright patches.

Zhong Minglou's mind no longer had the spare capacity to process that superfluous visual data. He could not even tell what he was doing. Even if a vehicle suddenly appeared before him, he might not be able to distinguish whether it was a car or a van, only barely judge whether it was large or small.

All scenery had turned into blurry blocks of pixels. His field of vision was full of bright spots, mixed with intermittent blackouts and freezes. His hearing had also begun to weaken, and the sounds around him rose and fell unpredictably.

He might even have forgotten what his purpose was.

In short, at this moment, he was already quite close to being mentally ill.

His brain was severely overloaded, like an ordinary person being forced to operate a mecha racing down the road at more than fifty times normal human speed.

The mecha constantly sent him information. At a speed comparable to an F1 race car, information from his surroundings surged at him violently, while he could only grip the steering wheel as tightly as possible and maintain