At this moment, the world from three years ago was collapsing and dissipating at an unimaginable speed.
As that illusory world vanished, they realized that Yang Jian, Wang Shanshan, and the ghost child had never returned to three years ago at all. They had remained in this room from beginning to end. Everything they had just experienced had not been real, like a dream or a hallucination in their minds.
"We're back?"
Wang Shanshan surveyed her surroundings. She was standing in a wooden room, where a candle burned, its dim yellow light flickering and casting her shadow onto the wall.
What made Wang Shanshan shudder was that there was a wooden rack in the middle of the room. A stone sat on it—or rather, it was not a stone, but a shriveled corpse curled up in a ball. No one knew how long the dried corpse had been placed here. Layer upon layer of dust covered it, forming something like a stony shell. At a glance, it looked like a gray rock.
Yet what was strange was that the corpse's head had no eyelids. Its eye sockets were enormous, taking up nearly half its face, and the insides were pitch-black, like an unfathomable abyss.
Wang Shanshan stared into the corpse's eye sockets. A bizarre force made her lose focus, and for a moment, she became entranced, unable to look away.
Suddenly.
A pair of fresh eyeballs emerged within those hollow, pitch-black sockets. They turned and met Wang Shanshan's gaze.
Wang Shanshan jumped in fright and instinctively backed away several steps. She could clearly see that those suddenly appearing eyes were very familiar. They were exactly the same as her own, as if two versions of herself were staring at each other.
At that moment, she even began to wonder whether