Six hundred and sixty-four days.
Tang Xian wrote down the name "Primordial Fog."
From this moment on, he could no longer guarantee the logical coherence between fragments of memory. The deeper his connection with someone, the more intertwined the associated memories became.
The brain naturally strives for logical consistency, making memories appear plausible. Yet Tang Xian's current recollections, strained by the loss of too many people, had started to warp and fragment.
But Tang Xian's true descent into hell began here. He had arrived at the innermost core of this realm, only to realize that its vastness eclipsed all imagination.
On this day, he identified six targets.
Only one marker bore the name "Primordial Fog." After writing it down, he stared at the two characters in confusion: Who was this person?
What experiences had he shared with them?
Tang Xian couldn't remember.
