Self-Projection

This question was like a thorn through his heart, pinning down everything Zhao Xu had just heard.

"Answer me?" Zhao Xu asked, emphasizing each word.

In an instant, the old man's voice abruptly stopped. He clutched his throat tightly, unable to utter another word. His entire body began to slowly melt like a candle.

As if he could not withstand even the slightest focus of Zhao Xu's will.

Hm?

I didn't just cast the Wish Spell, did I?

No, I wasn't even thinking of you dying.

Zhao Xu raised his head, deep confusion in his eyes.

In an instant, the void around him began to evolve. It was like a complete ink painting constantly receiving new pigments, refined by one new painter after another as each poured their life's creativity onto the canvas and wrote out the final afterglow of life.

From a chaotic mess to gradual refinement, Zhao Xu spotted the clue in that instant.

Stars appeared, the sun and moon appeared, mountains appeared, time appeared, life appeared...

It was as though he were the creator. Everything interwove and moved through the void and chaos, crossing one another.

Was I questioning this world, or was this world questioning me?

Zhao Xu saw himself, and he also saw himself within his own eyes.

It was the illusion of Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly, and the butterfly dreaming of Zhuang Zhou—both real and unreal.

That was his only feeling at the moment.

The next second, he realized someone had appeared behind him. When he looked closely, his heart began to pound, shattering all his thoughts and calm.

It also woke him from that irresistible miracle of life.

Antinoa?

This?

Zhao Xu could not help sinking into even deeper confusion.

She should not have appeared here now.

Or rather, aside from