Mo Ling finally made out what those outlines were.
Though they were still swaying constantly, he could vaguely discern them through the afterimages.
Those things were easy enough to identify, and it was hard for Mo Ling to mistake them, because they were...
"People?"
Mo Ling had almost thought he was imagining people in those similar outlines.
But after watching carefully for a while, he finally confirmed that those things really were "people."
More precisely, all kinds of incomplete "people."
"People" drifted haphazardly through this boundless White Universe. Some had only their upper bodies left, their empty eyes staring into the distance, as if watching something unknown.
Some were missing limbs, slowly spinning around their navels like pale flying saucers.
Some had only their heads remaining, gliding through the white universe like Shooting Stars. Their long hair trailed behind them like comet tails, tearing long streaks through the white void, graceful and lonely.
Some lacked torsos. Their heads and limbs were bound together by some invisible force, like tightly connected molecules. Their heads were expressionless, but their limbs stretched and swayed like giant human-shaped balloons outside a supermarket on opening day, wantonly displaying their "empty" bodies.
Some held hands and hooked legs, yet their bodies had been split down the middle, leaving only one half. They twisted in utterly bizarre poses, their exposed cross-sections revealing clear layers of internal structure, like specially designed anatomical models with every organ plainly visible.
Some had no flesh left. White bones hung upside down silently in the White Universe, their color slightly yellower than the universe around them. Human bones did not look so clean, either; dirty stains still clung to them, the "traces of life" accumulated over time, proof of growth as well.
Some were nothing but empty skins, hollowed out completely and