Blore felt the vines suddenly loosen, the compass gave a last, blinding flash of light, and then the whole place began to twist and dissolve.
Space folded up like crumpled paper, and his body was stretched and twisted, passing through the cracks of countless dimensions.
When everything settled down again, he found himself standing at the edge of the Black Forest.
He held a miniature compass in his arms. It was now only the size of a dinner plate, but the runes were still glowing faintly.
Blore looked down at it and felt a strange sense of satisfaction, as if he had found a long-lost part of himself.
But when he tried to recall the specific details of the strange world in Qilian, the memories slipped through his fingers like sand. The only clear thing was Si Weijun's final words: "We will meet again, when the stars are right."
Are the stars moving into their right positions?
Wait till he gets out...
Blore looked down in thought.
It was so strange, he didn't even think about whether he could understand it?
Blore stroked the compass's surface, the runes warming slightly under his touch.
He vaguely felt that his connection with the world had undergone subtle changes.
The outlines of the trees seemed sharper, tiny points of light floated in the air that he had never noticed before, and even his own shadow seemed to have a life of its own, moving restlessly across the ground.
"What have I become?" Blore asked quietly, but the forest responded with only a rustling of leaves, as if whispering an answer he was not yet ready for.
Blore sat cross-legged under the oldest oak tree in the Black Forest, with the compass he had brought back from the strange land of Qilian on his knees.
The morning light shone through the twisted branches and sprinkled onto the bronze surface in patches. The strange runes seemed to come alive in the light, like a group of tiny black insects crawling slowly.
"Okay, now I can think about it." He took a deep breath, and the humid air in the forest carried a scent of decay and rebirth.
Blore deliberately slowed his breathing, just as his father had taught him as a child to calm the fear after a nightmare - although he now doubted whether those memories of his father were real.
He is not a fool.
Everything that has happened in this period of time seems to have started from the four people mistakenly entering Nanbaichasong Town, to the strange phenomena that have appeared on each of them now. It is impossible to explain it by coincidence or luck.
Blore's fingernails dug unconsciously into the grooves on the compass's edge, and his fingertips felt a slight vibration, as if he had touched the pulse of some giant creature.
"Is that really me?"
He stared at the faintly glowing needle in the center of the compass, his voice dry as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.
The scenes he saw in his dream reappeared before his eyes: the humanoid figure emerging from the purple mist, the twinkling stars in Si Weijun's eyes, and the cool touch of the vines wrapping around his wrists.
These memories are so real that they are terrifying, yet so absurd that they seem like the fantasies of a mental patient.
Blore held his head in pain, the sweat seeping from between his fingers having a light indigo tint.
He tried to sort it all out logically -
Memories of past lives?
Another self in a parallel universe?
Or is it false information implanted into his brain by some higher-dimensional being?
But every time I think about it, it's like using a fishing net to scoop up fog. The harder I try, the faster those key clues disappear.
What disturbed him most was the change in his friends.
Last week in Dawn's cafe, he noticed that Bai Di's pupils would split in two at a certain angle;
But Bai Di didn't seem to realize it.
When I passed by Ma Tuan's window late the night before yesterday, I could see his shadow through the curtains extending to the ceiling at an impossible angle;
And Nansong has been unconsciously using some ancient language's grammatical structure to speak modern words lately...
Some kind of transformation beyond common sense is taking place in the four of them.
But sadly, none of them spoke about it.
During each class, the four of them tacitly maintained a superficial normality, like a group of monsters in human skins poorly imitating human social interaction.
Blore knew it was a protective tenderness, but it was a tenderness that was now gnawing at his nerves like a dull knife.
"But I..."
Blore suddenly choked, a sense of inexplicable grievance rising from deep in his chest, burning his throat.
He curled up his body, and the compass slid to the ground covered with rotten leaves with a dull thud.
"I really don't know what to do..."
Tears dripped onto the surface of the compass, and the runes immediately greedily absorbed the moisture, making a slight sizzling sound.
As Blore watched this, a realization beyond fear suddenly struck him—perhaps he didn't need to do anything at all.
Just as a baby does not need to learn how to breathe and a migratory bird does not need to understand the instinct to migrate, his connection with this compass has long been engraved deeper than memory.
Trembling, he picked up the compass again, this time no longer resisting the visions that flooded into his mind.
Countless fragments of memory flooded back like a tide: he saw himself standing beneath the dome of a massive building, surrounded by priests bearing the face of Si Weijun; he saw himself soaring through the starry sky, his body transformed into a glowing mist; he saw himself in an even more distant era, before the rise of land, conversing with a multi-eyed creature in the depths of the primordial ocean...
These memories are like sand castles repeatedly washed by the sea, sometimes clear and sometimes blurry.
Blore wasn't sure which time and space he belonged to, but each flashback caused subtle changes in his body.
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