The Weaver of Lies' voice echoed deep within his consciousness. "See? You really don't exist. If you existed, why would so many memories say you don't?"
Lin Ye remained silent for a long time. Then he smiled.
For the first time, that smile made the Weaver of Lies falter.
"You're right." His voice was soft. "Countless memories say I don't exist. Those memories are all real, because they do exist."
He raised his hand-it had blurred until it was almost invisible. "But you've forgotten something."
He pointed behind him. There, the expedition team was struggling. Harmonic Leaping Note desperately played her melody, Radiant Stilllight frantically defined, Myriad Faces and Forms maintained the mirror, and Primordial Origin clung tightly to the cloak. They, too, were being denied, being told they "didn't exist," but they hadn't stopped.
"They don't need to prove I exist," Lin Ye said softly. "They only need to choose to remember me. Even if I never existed, even if I'm only an illusion, even if all three hundred and seventy million civilizations remembered wrong-"
He paused. "They choose to remember me. That choice itself is my proof of existence."
The Weaver of Lies' light trembled violently. "That's illogical! If the memories are false, what meaning is there in choosing to remember false memories?"
Lin Ye's smile deepened. "Meaning?" he said softly. "You've lived through endless eras just to ask that question?"
He took a step forward. As his foot landed, his form became clear again. Not because the Weaver of Lies had stopped denying him, but because he no longer needed to "be proven to exist." He only needed to "be chosen to be remembered."
"Meaning doesn't come from 'truth.'" He continued forward. "Meaning comes from 'choice.' Three hundred and seventy million civilizations chose to remember me not