The air was just right, warm sunlight spilling gently over her body, a mild breeze teasing the hair draped over her shoulders.
The weather was rare and pleasant.
But Xiliu herself could not relax at all.
She still had no idea where this was. She did not even know whether this place was reality or a dream.
If it was a dream, it was far too real. The cool sensation of the breeze brushing over her fingertips, the way her hair rose and fell as it fluttered, the ravines of light and shadow cast beneath drifting clouds—none of the dreams Xiliu had ever had could simulate such detail. More importantly, she could think deeply here.
It looked just like reality, but it only "looked" like it.
Because if she truly called this place reality, she hesitated. She could not sense the slightest trace of energy. Not only could she sense no magic in the wind, even her perception of her mind-space came and went like a faint shadow. She could not even control Water Transmutation anymore.
She was as frail as an ordinary mortal now—or rather, she was an ordinary mortal now.
This situation did not resemble reality in the slightest.
If this is a dream, then I should still be in my own dream, Xiliu thought. If she were in a lucid dream, she could alter the illusion around her. Why not try changing her surroundings?
But in the end, Xiliu failed. She could not change anything around her.
Could this not be my dream? Could it really be reality? Or am I still fighting Onassis, trapped in an illusion he created? Xiliu's imagination ran wild as she began considering every possibility.
Just as Xiliu was deep in thought, a set of footsteps suddenly sounded from nearby.
Xiliu abruptly