Falling.
Staring at the ever-diminishing light atop the vault of the heavens, Xu Yuan's consciousness kept plunging into the pitch-black abyss.
It felt like lying on a sunset beach, the cooling tide steadily rising, wave after wave lapping at his neck.
Something was gradually submerging him.
But based on Xu Yuan's experience with dying, he figured he wasn't dead yet.
Death was a state of ignorance and oblivion—a stark, chilling void.
The very ability to think meant he was still alive.
This physical sensation, perhaps, was an abstract manifestation of his duel of devourment with Mu Nuo. Maybe the moment he was fully engulfed by the tide would mark the time Mu Nuo completely consumed him.
Or it could be the reverse.
After all, this devouring process was a mystery to both parties involved.
Xu Yuan had no idea what he ought to do. He couldn't do anything anyway—he couldn't even lift a finger. All he could do was passively perceive his surroundings.
