Jiang Che had confessed the truth in Willow Source Old Dream, and confessed it to Master Chunji at Little Hidden Temple. Both had borne good fruit.
But there had been conditions behind that.
At Willow Source, an urgent situation had called for bending the rules. Jiang Zongcheng might not have truly believed him, but he had not dared gamble and had let him in. None of the boys he met afterward had actually believed he came from the future. They had merely assumed his mind had been clouded, or that he had somehow evaded the heart examination.
At Little Hidden Temple, Master Chunji had truly believed him.
But what sort of person was Chunji? He was a reincarnated Greatest Zen who had seen through life and death, and had even arranged his own reincarnation down to the last detail!
Even when told he was merely an echo of history, destined to die, he could accept it calmly and offer comfort in return.
But how many Chunjis were there under heaven?
Li Qiubai certainly was not one.
His future was a tapestry of promise, and his spirit was riding high.
He was indeed a gentle, gracious gentleman, but if someone ran up and told him he was a dead man, that he was nothing more than a phantom now...
Why should he believe it?
Putting himself in Li Qiubai's place, Jiang Che asked himself: without the Consciousness Space, if someone stopped him and said the same things, he would not believe them either. Even if they produced a hundred kinds of evidence, he still would not believe them.
What would believing it amount to? Would it not mean admitting that all his struggles in this life, all his burning ambitions, were merely flowers in a mirror and the moon reflected in