Jiang Wang felt as though he had walked a very long way.
He had traveled alone through a dark, endless night, trudging who knew how many miles. There was no way to count.
No end lay ahead, and no path behind.
He knew nothing of the world around him, nor could he discern the grudges and affections that had come and gone within him.
No companions walked at his left, and no one fought against the current at his right.
This feeling...
Was like a feather bobbing on the sea, or a fish stranded beneath the blazing sun.
He knew nothing and felt nothing. He had no support, no one to rely on. He could not tell east from west or north from south.
Jiang Wang had always been a determined person. He knew what he wanted to do and how he ought to move forward. No matter what kind of predicament he faced, he cut through every obstacle and charged ahead.
But now, he did not even know if he was moving "forward."
He was simply walking, walking on and on.
But he did not know how long he had been walking or how far he had gone.
He reached out, but could not grasp his sword. He could not even feel his own hand.
When he realized he could not feel his hand, he also discovered that he could no longer be certain he was walking. He did not even know when that sensation had begun.
He had only one thought—
Keep walking.
That was all he had, while his awareness of "himself" had vanished completely.
This was not the bewilderment of having lost all five senses. It was as if every kind of perception, including the five senses, had ceased to exist.
A hopeless trek was the