The scene had not shifted; it had been pressed down upon him.
A moment ago, Ji Li could still feel the icy hardness of the steel needle in his eye socket, the swollen soreness after his left eye had been sewn shut, and the trembling aftershock in the air, like shattering glass, when the Time Ghost's first attack had collapsed.
The next moment, all those sensations had been crushed away, leaving only the weight covering him.
Ji Li's face was pressed against the ground. Something on his back had forcibly pinned him down. His cheekbone struck some hard, flat surface, with no padding and no cushioning. Flesh split directly against it.
He looked around. He could not open his left eye, nor could he even turn it—the needle's tip was lodged against the inside of his eye socket bone, and every attempt to move it brought a dull ache from deep within the socket, like a rusty iron spoon scraping a bowl.
He could only use his right eye.
His right eye had been torn by the force from before. Capillaries along the edge of his eyelid were seeping blood, Blood Droplets clinging to his lashes, on the verge of falling.
Every time he blinked, those Blood Droplets were crushed between his upper and lower lids, staining his vision layer after layer of deep red.
Through that red, he looked at the ground.
The ground was red too. Blood from both eyes, from his torn eyelids, from the abrasion on his face, and from all his other injuries had formed a dark-red mirror.
His face was pressed against that mirror.
And the weight on his back was still increasing.
Ji Li could feel every new weight descending, forcing the air in his chest out through his throat.
He had no