Whose Future
Bang! Bang! Bang!
On either side of a luxurious round table, Ji Li caught sight of an illusory figure seated across from him in a strange posture, examining him with an indistinct gaze.
He had yet to open his eyes, as though he had never possessed eyes in the first place.
Yet he could still see, and his vision was even clearer than if his eyes were open, as though every trace and detail in the world could be captured seamlessly.
Strands of black lines outlined a dreamlike scene. He saw himself seated before the round table, facing some unknown thing.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
An uneasy sound rang out from the depths of his soul, sometimes distant, sometimes near.
Ji Li saw the two hands resting on the table. As his gaze shifted, black lines rapidly piled together, allowing him to see a pair of aged, withered skeletal palms.
Like old tree bark, dry flesh clung tightly to the slender hand bones, yet they were also stickily fused to the glowing golden round table.
Those hands had rested upon the round table for untold years, as though they had become branches growing from the table, only to have long since withered away.
"Is this me...?"
His throat made no sound. It was filled with dust accumulated through the ages, and he saw himself as though he were a corpse revived from its grave.
Everything had withered away in the merciless, cruel passage of time.
No...
There was still one thing growing: that head of thick, jet-black long hair.
It was the only part that did not emit the stench of death, as though it had never truly been one with Ji Li and possessed some independent life of its own.
The long hair had grown enormously, cascading down