Somewhere in a cosmic dimension.
Luo Qing, who had smashed his brain and reconstructed his soul's origin, was quietly hovering in the sky above the All Heavens World.
He felt his thoughts constantly changing, his entire consciousness sinking into an unprecedented system of thought.
A gentle will resonated across the multidimensional realms. It was the countless timelines and countless universes—different versions of "me" with different experiences—producing the Mandela Effect.
"Alchemy? Today, we're going to learn alchemy."
"What is that?" Luo Qing cried out. "Who are you? Who else is speaking?"
"I am you," the voice said.
"What are you waiting for?" Luo Qing suddenly asked.
"Waiting for you to forget."
As the other party spoke, Luo Qing gradually lost all sensation. All that remained around him was a vast, empty whiteness. No matter how he ran, fled, shouted, or roared, it was all useless.
"Hahahaha, today we're going to learn alchemy."
"Hehehe, today we're learning artifact refinement."
"Trash, you're nothing but trash."
Strange, flat voices occasionally drifted over, as if other versions of himself from parallel universes were whispering, endlessly burrowing into his ears.
He began to hate artifact refinement. He began to hate that dull, complicated life. He smashed his head against the ground, pounded at his soul, and even forcibly reshaped his own consciousness, all just to forget that mad, monotonous, lonely, and pointless existence.
Gradually, a new change appeared in his consciousness.
Artifact refinement?
Forgotten.
Mechanical techniques?
Whatever.
In the next moment, he no longer possessed anything. An endless flood of information poured into his consciousness.
In this universe, his consciousness had, by an infinitesimally small chance, happened to successfully reorganize itself.
Some talents had been weakened, while others had been strengthened. Countless all-round talents had been burned away merely to break through the limits of a