This scene was even clearer than the two histories he had experienced.
Yet he suddenly could no longer remember the name of the necromancer who had commanded the attack on Buchi in that history. His memory had grown so blurred, as if every detail concerning Su Fei were merging into deeper layers of thought.
For the him of the past, this would have been utterly unimaginable.
After all, Eluin's humiliation and regrets had been deeply engraved in the heart of every Eluin player.
But at this very moment,
his heart was as calm as a gentle breeze.
In his eyes, what he saw was not Madara's sea of Bone Frames, but a pile of rotten dry bones that could be reduced to ashes with a wave of his hand.
They were nothing more than ants.
Let them all vanish with history.
He lightly waved his hand, and the undead covering the mountains and plains were reduced to dust. In his own dream, he ruled over everything. It was not only these useless creatures—the dream itself began to shatter and tremble.
The mountains and wind, the stars and moon, the hills and pine forests, all vanished one after another.
Then he vaguely heard the sound of something breaking, like the crisp clatter of a crystal cup falling to the ground. By then, the dream had already turned into nothingness.
Brando blinked and struggled to move his eyelids. His body seemed to have become extremely unfamiliar. He understood that this was because his muscles had stiffened after such a long sleep, but he suddenly realized that he actually knew what had happened while he slept.
The moment he awoke, an understanding seemed to arise naturally in his heart:
Seventy-four hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-one seconds.
Three days of hibernation. Bodily signs manifesting