A beating eyeball is embedded in the end of the hilt, and when the pupil contracts, the surrounding air will produce blue sparks of quantum tunneling effect.
The head on the compass let out a high-pitched laugh, the sound waves shattering the nearby black fog-covered space. "How dare you use the weapon He bestowed upon you before the Mirror of Cognition?"
Blore's movements were so fast that they were beyond human physiology—his shoulder joint twisted 270 degrees in the opposite direction, his spine compressed like a spring and then released instantly.
The path of the purple long blade left behind phosphorescent afterimages, which condensed into the topological structure of a Klein bottle in the air.
The moment the tip of the knife pierced the person's head, time froze.
"I believe what you say is true." Blore's voice suddenly became unusually calm, and a row of tiny compound eyes opened on the blade. "But the truth is often more deadly than a lie."
Black fog began to boil from the top of the cliff, like asphalt torn apart by invisible hands.
The mist condensed into countless black flowers, each petal a microscopic Möbius strip.
The human head twitched violently under the knife, and the brass compass melted into liquid metal, dripping onto the ground to form a relief of a screaming human face.
"You think that by breaking the shackles of cognition you can..."
The curse of the human head was interrupted by the sudden burst of purple light from the blade.
Blore flipped his wrist, and the blade split into twelve parallel dimensional projections, each of which simultaneously passed through the same target in a different timeline.
The air crackled like crumpled tinfoil, and the black flowers suddenly turned toward Blore, translucent nerve tentacles extending from their stamens.
"Thank you for your enlightenment." Fractal patterns appeared in Blore's pupils. He stepped on the relief of a human face that was being reassembled on the ground and stabbed down with the knife in both hands.
This strike seemed to carry with it all his evaporating human memories—the warm light in the kitchen when the four of them secretly baked bread together, the scent of rain on Nan Song's hair, the trembling in his chest when he first saw the aurora—these emotional fuels ignited the purple fire of cognition in the blade.
All forms of the compass at the quantum level are struck simultaneously.
The head's final expression was frozen in a state of sudden realization and horror, its rotting vocal cords squeezing out a few syllables:
"So you've already..."
The dark purple light exploded like a supernova.
As the light faded, Blore stood alone in the center of the pixelated library.
The long blade in his hand turned back into liquid starlight, seeping back into his body through the pores of his skin.
On the cliff in the deepest part of consciousness, the progress of opening the bronze coffin temporarily stopped at 47%, and the chain was re-wrapped tighter.
The world returned to its original state, if that "original state" ever existed.
＊
At this moment, Si Weijun was walking quietly in a vast snowy wasteland, as if he was the only living thing in this dead world.
The falling snow formed a blurry curtain around him, but the snowflakes melted silently the moment they touched his skin, as if they were afraid of some indescribable existence.
On his face, the lines of the lotus in the dark bank were spreading in a way that went against common sense.
Those lines were not static, but wriggling under his pale skin like living things, sometimes stretching out like blooming strange flowers, and sometimes curling up into ancient symbols that were difficult to decipher.
A faint blue light flickers deep in each line, as if sealing the starlight of a distant galaxy.
But his changes go far beyond this.
The long, jet-black hair grew at a speed visible to the naked eye, with mother-of-pearl-like iridescence flashing from time to time between the strands, only to return to an unsettling pitch-black color in the blink of an eye.
Even stranger, some of the ends of his hair split into tiny tentacles, tracing exploratory gestures in the air. His figure stretched out with excessive grace, the angles of his joints occasionally exhibiting subtle anomalies, as if his skeletal structure were reorganizing into some inhuman form.
The thin, light black mist did not envelope him, but seeped out from every pore of his body.
The mist twisted into vague shapes in the air, sometimes like countless outstretched arms, and sometimes condensed into the outline of a faceless head.
His shadow twitched painfully on the ground, constantly changing its hideous shape - sometimes it was the outline of a multi-legged arthropod, sometimes it swelled into a huge monster with countless eyes.
Occasionally, ripples would appear on the completely black surface of the eyeball, as if something was swimming beneath a deep pool.
When staring for too long, the observer will have a terrifying illusion, as if they can see some huge, indescribable existence in the depths of the darkness, looking back at the real world through these eyes.
At this moment, the beauty of his appearance has surpassed the scope of human understanding.
It was a kind of creepy perfection. A network of dark blue blood vessels was faintly visible under the snow-white skin, forming some kind of mysterious totem; the red lips were so bright as if they had just sipped the essence of life, and the corners of the lips would inadvertently raise into an inhuman arc.
As he walked, the snow around him would suddenly bloom into ice crystal flowers, and then decay into gray-black dust in an instant.
Unable to locate the source of whispers, the sound was like the murmur of millions of people, or the groan of a giant monster slowly awakening.
The falling trajectories of the snowflakes became chaotic, and some even flew upwards in defiance of gravity.
A huge shadow appeared on the surface of the iceberg in the distance and then quickly disappeared, as if the entire ice field was the shell of a sleeping giant beast.
Si Weijun continued to walk forward, leaving behind phosphorescent footprints on the snow with every step. Those footprints gradually formed a symbol so huge that it was dizzying, like the mark left by a forgotten Old One.
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