Zhao Cheng's memories continued to rewind, and there was only one discrepancy: in his memories, it had clearly been an avalanche, yet during the rewind, it had turned into a terrifying little story.
But he still remembered clearly. There had been no terrifying little story. That day, their whole group had gotten up shortly after five in the morning. He had not slept until after nine, either. Until the avalanche struck, Old Wang had been lively and kicking, not dead at all.
Then where had such a discrepancy come from?!
And Old Zhang, with that riddler-like manner of his, was also different from the Old Zhang in Zhao Cheng's memories.
In short, there was a huge problem.
No further issues arose during the subsequent rewind and correction. From Zhao Cheng's current perspective, once the past had been completed, the world before his transmigration had been the purest kind of low-dimensional universe, without the slightest trace of high-dimensional elements or extraordinary powers.
There had indeed been paths of cultivation there, but even the strongest cultivators were only comparable to Swordsmen on the spiritual level. As for their physical bodies, any random Swordsman could take on a hundred of them with ease.
As for Old Wang's third-rate boxing skills, in this world, any somewhat diligent high school student could utterly crush him.
Thus, Zhao Cheng studied that memory over and over again. The more he studied it, the more curious he became about the nature of this riddler-version Old Zhang.
Unfortunately, no matter how much he researched it, he still could not figure out what exactly was going on.
Perhaps all the answers would only become clear one day, when he could return to the original world.
In truth, Zhao Cheng had also explored the possibility of returning to his original world.