A small red bird flew out from the grass and landed affectionately on his shoulder.
The little red bird chirped a few times, and Lin Dong was actually able to understand its words:
"Kid, who do you think you are? You're nothing!"
Lin Dong was stunned for a moment, then muttered to himself, "Who am I? I... am nothing?"
"Yes, you are nothing! You are not a genius, much less a god. You are just an ordinary person."
The bird continued to chirp in his ear.
"I'm not a genius, much less a god, I'm just an ordinary person?" Lin Dong unconsciously repeated this bird language.
"Yes, you're just an ordinary person. Admit defeat and face reality!"
Where is this?
"This is the most authentic world in your mind, therefore, this is the truth."
"The world of true thought? The truth?" Lin Dong pondered for a moment, feeling that something was amiss.
Because there was always a transparent fishing line wrapped around his arm.
"No, if this is true, then who are you? And why is there fishing line on my arm?"
Lin Dong's heart skipped a beat, as if he had suddenly grasped something crucial.
He turned his head to look at the little red bird on his shoulder, and his eyes began to light up.
Immediately, the immense spiritual power emanating from him, like ripples on a lake, instantly enveloped the entire area...
The surrounding scenery gradually blurred.
Of course, that also includes the little red bird.
"I know who you are now, you are Yang Jing'an!"
Lin Dong's eyes suddenly cleared, and he gazed at the gradually blurring little bird with a sense of understanding, murmuring:
"That fishhook is hypnosis, and the transparent fishing line is mental energy... I understand!"
The next second, the world in the painting before my eyes completely disappeared.
Lin Dong noticed that he was still sitting on that sofa.
A meter away, Yang Jing'an, wearing a red shirt, looked pale.
Large beads of sweat were trickling down his cheeks.
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