Su Yang was completely dumbfounded.
Was this truly transmigration, or merely an overly vivid daydream? If it was a dream, then every touch, every memory, weighed heavily upon his heart—standing side by side with Pangu when Primordial Chaos first opened, holding the authority of the River of Time; on Taichu Immortal Island, a thousand disciples bowing and saluting him, calling him "Master"; Feng Yanran holding his hand with a smile, the cinnabar beauty mark glowing in the candlelight... Could all of it really have been nothing more than an illusion born of his muddled mind?
He stood frozen where he was, even his breathing slowing by half a beat. He could not tell whether what lay before him was reality or another newly conjured mirage.
Casually setting the bottle of soy sauce on the kitchen counter, he paced over to the balcony and leaned against the railing to look down—neon lights woven like cloth, traffic flowing like a river, hurrying figures, honking horns, vendors' cries, and the pounding of construction piles all blending into a single clamor. The whole city steamed with heat beneath the noon sun.
He drew in a deep breath of air. It stung his throat slightly, carrying the smell of exhaust and dust, yet it somehow grounded him. He closed his eyes, as though confirming that he was still standing on solid ground.
Right!
He abruptly spun around and rushed into the bathroom, lifting the mirror cover in one swift motion and staring hard at the face within—at most, he remembered himself as fairly handsome, but that "Su Yang" from the dream had sharp brows, long narrow eyes, and seemed to scatter sparks of starlight with every smile. Even recalling it now made a sour jealousy rise in his chest.
"Good... it hasn't changed." His voice