Once Zhao Cheng sank into his comprehension of origin, he canceled all the threads he had been running in parallel. Every scrap of his mind and energy was devoted to origin.
At the same time, as Zhao Cheng delved deeper, Luo Zhen abruptly sensed a change in him. It was not that Zhao Cheng had grown more powerful—Luo Zhen could not feel that. He only felt that Zhao Cheng was becoming increasingly "real."
That was right—an extraordinary sense of reality.
It would have been one thing if Zhao Cheng were not compared to anything else. But once compared, everything else seemed like pictures sketched with simple lines. No matter how exquisite the technique, a picture was still just a picture. Only Zhao Cheng was undeniably real.
Luo Zhen even found himself entertaining an utterly absurd thought: that he himself was merely a figure in a painting.
As for why he found it absurd, it was because he could clearly still think. I think, therefore I am. For a person capable of thought to doubt that he was fake, that he did not exist—the more he thought about it, the more absurd it became.
Void, however, had a pure heart and did not entertain such thoughts.
Her gaze remained fixed on the King of Light, as though there was something on the King of Light that drew her in immensely.
The King of Light also found that gaze somewhat strange, yet she could not see what the problem was.
She could only assume that little girls had no resistance to big sisters. She was extremely confident in her own charm.
Zhao Cheng being willing to squeeze her dry was simply because that man Zhao Cheng was blind and could not see her charm.
Of that, she was firmly convinced.
Thinking of