Otherwise, they would all be unlucky.
...
Song He, who sat in the cold, dead silence of the rain, was very calm.
He closed his eyes and felt the changes around him.
He experienced a magical sense of knowledge and everything flowing away in his mind—as if his brain had become flat and smooth, with knowledge passing over it without leaving a single trace.
It was not only knowledge, but also his memories and thoughts.
All became blurred under the onslaught of the rain.
Like relics in a grey curtain of rain, fading and dimming until they turned to dust and mud.
"This is indeed a rare experience... Ah, what was I planning to do?" he muttered to himself, spreading his palms.
A whirlpool appeared from within his palm.
It was a whirlpool of seven colors, starkly different from Baize's seven-colored gentle light, as if it contained all the colors and vitality of the world, its hues undiminished even amidst the rain.
A branch, pure white as jade, slowly poked through from it.
