What would the perfect me look like?
Mo Ling did not know. He found these doubtful thoughts constantly arising in his mind, only to be calmed by some special force the very next moment.
Are chaotic thoughts imperfect?
It was as if that force were compelling him to remain tranquil, to maintain a state of "emptying his mind."
He was questioning this "perfection," yet that perfection was constantly eroding him, reshaping him into something else.
No, this can't go on. If this continues, I won't be myself anymore...
No one was perfect. Everyone carried confusion and doubts in their hearts; their emotions rose and fell. There were times of irritation and times of calm. If one became completely calm, one would no longer be human.
Absolute calm meant absolute emptiness. No agitated thoughts would arise, nor would any confusion, like an eternally tranquil sea surface without the slightest ripple.
If he became like that, he could no longer be called "human." He would merely be an ornate decoration wearing a human exterior, like the enormous mirror standing on the plain.
Mo Ling resisted this change, but the power of perfection seeped in everywhere. Even his "resistance" was gradually being smoothed away. The awareness of resistance he had just formed began to dissipate before long, instead drifting toward "submission."
His scattered thoughts were being compressed, and the waves of thought were gradually subsiding. This transformation was becoming more and more thorough, more and more rapid, like an encirclement drawing ever tighter around Mo Ling. Every struggle was like striking cotton; all his strength was completely absorbed, leaving behind only a faint calm.
This silent, imperceptible change was more terrifying than a violent attack. The moment he let his guard down, this baseless "calm" would completely devour him in an instant, leaving