Beep—
Darkness.
All he felt in his heart was pure darkness.
A middle-aged man wrapped in ash and wax sat withered like an old monk amid a stretch of empty, silent darkness.
His appearance was not that of the handsome youth, Lu Cang.
Instead, he was a slightly weary-looking middle-aged Asian man.
Lu Cang.
The Lu Cang from before the "transmigration."
At this moment, Lu Cang sat there, withered and still, neither joy nor sorrow in his heart. He simply gazed quietly at the flat darkness, all thoughts returning to calm.
His doubts seemed finally to have received their ultimate answer.
The Foul Source Nest. So this was what he was.
The sum of all spirituality, the pollution of the Foul Source Nest, the perfect vessel.
All of this had combined to form him.
And the self was not the self.
Who exactly am I?
Ever since arriving in this world, Lu Cang had in fact been seeking the answer to this question all along.
And time after time, he had received answers like faint threads of spider silk and horse tracks.
Only, the closer he came to the truth...
The more Lu Cang discovered that I was not I.
I was many things pieced together, assembled into one.
But at least, his humanity was still preserved.
He still seemed like a person.
The pursuits he had before had not been forgotten either. Keeping things this way was actually fine.
But deep in his heart...
Lu Cang had also often wondered: was he still human?
A vessel shell of the "Demonic Beast" category, spirituality stuffed inside—when all was said and done, did he have any relation at all to the species called human?
Still, all this time, he had also been living as a person.
If he kept living this