**On a certain year, month, day, hour, minute, and second.**
The world below continued as usual. The observable area was clear, with no wind and sparse clouds.
Gaowen silently watched the distant earth from an absolute top-down perspective, pondering life—since, honestly, he couldn't do much else. He had long since lost track of how many years he had remained in this state and didn't even know what he looked like anymore.
Though he could roughly gauge the passing of time by the day-night cycle, after seeing the sun rise and set hundreds of thousands of times, he'd lost interest in counting.
**Had he transmigrated?**
Frankly, Gaowen was relatively at peace with the idea. It wasn't that he had some profound sense of detachment toward life and death, but during his previous life, when the plane he was on started to go down, he had already made peace with the unpredictability of fate.
After all, in a situation where death seemed certain, the chance to transmigrate was preferable to meeting a gruesome end. However, what he couldn't come to terms with was *why* his "transmigration" left him floating in the sky… and for who knew how many millennia.
Gaowen wasn't sure what kind of state he was in. He couldn't move his view, nor could he feel his body; in fact, aside from sight, he had lost all sense of his surroundings. He couldn't even tell if he was a lingering spirit or a space-bound corpse drifting in orbit.
One thing was clear, though: he was definitely not here in any *normal human* form. Because he was certain that a normal human mind couldn't drift alone in the heavens for millennia while remaining perfectly sane, with his thoughts intact and memory clear, even finding the time to ponder life's questions.
Any normal person would have gone insane by now.
But he hadn't—quite the opposite; his memory was exceptional.
The passage of thousands of years had not dulled Gaowen's recollections in the slightest. He could still vividly recall every detail of his last moments in his previous life—the sharp cries, the alarm, the violent shaking of the cabin, the ever-tumbling earth and sky outside the windows, the passenger next to him struggling with a breathing mask, and the deafening crash as the plane broke apart.
Everything was as vivid as if it happened yesterday. And then, after that massive noise, he had opened his eyes again, only to find himself hovering above this alien planet, dumbfounded.
From the moment he had reopened his eyes, he had known that the lands and oceans he saw were certainly not those of Earth.
So he'd taken some time to infer and accept the fact that he had arrived in a different world. Afterward, he spent even longer trying to figure out how to stop himself from floating here indefinitely.
Sadly, the latter goal proved unsuccessful.
He discovered he was "fixed" in place, or perhaps his current form simply had no capability for movement at all. He had become a "fixed perspective," forever observing the earth below and firmly confined to this exact location.
He could gaze at the earth but only at a specific region—a stretch of land bordered by a circle of ocean, and nothing beyond that. His field of vision could not shift left or right, so he could not even be sure if there were other lands beyond the sea. For the same reason, he had never once seen the sky of this world.
He didn't even know if there were other celestial bodies here. For all he knew, if he could look around, he might see some white-bearded deity shining a spotlight on everything.
Damn it, he'd kill just to do a back float… Even if it only led to seeing a white-bearded guy shining a light, it would be something.
But it was just wishful thinking—this perspective, locked on the earth below, could not change direction.
However, after trying for a long time, Gaowen did manage to find one small degree of control over this viewpoint. Although he couldn't move left or right, he could zoom in and out within his visual field, or, rather, pull his viewpoint closer and further.
Discovering this had genuinely thrilled him for a while, and he'd eagerly experimented with adjusting his view in every way possible.
Though zooming out to the maximum still didn't reveal anything beyond the ocean circle, at the very least, he could zoom in and take a closer look at what lay on the land below.
The land below was lush, vibrant, and unmistakably teeming with life.
"If only I could watch the daily lives of these otherworldly beings," Gaowen mused. Though still stuck floating in place, he figured observing the customs and lifestyles of the creatures below could at least alleviate some boredom.
So, he zoomed in, bringing his view down to the closest range, close enough to observe each blade of grass and tree in sharp detail.
That day, he made a heartbreaking discovery: the mammals on this land… none of them had yet learned to walk upright.
But Gaowen had patience—a vast patience he never possessed in his former life as a human. Somehow, becoming this fixed perspective had endowed him with an enormous capacity for waiting.
He watched patiently until, one day, those creatures did stand upright.
And then, more years passed. He witnessed the very first man-made spark—fire, ignited with flint.
It was from that moment of fire's birth that change began.
Gaowen didn't know what had triggered it, but after that first spark, everything seemed to "accelerate," or perhaps his perception of time had somehow shifted. The events on the ground began to unfold at an astonishing speed, like a video sped up hundreds of times.
He saw these humanoid beings swiftly build primitive villages, which then grew into early city-states. He watched as these beings developed incomprehensible powers, expanding their lands with what looked like magic.
But before he could clearly make sense of what was happening, those early kingdoms fell into ruin, only for new humanoid creatures to repopulate the land, emerging from the scattered corners of ancient ruins.
Humans, alongside other species, began competing for space on the continent. They established various kingdoms, different beliefs, and invoked countless deities in their battles, only to see their efforts fade into dust.
The pace continued to quicken, and Gaowen found himself overwhelmed by the flood of information. He caught glimpses of massive creatures resembling dragons sweeping into his field of view, yet he couldn't tell if these "dragons" had evolved from the continent or come from beyond the sea.
He saw wars erupt, flames nearly consuming the entire land, only to blink and witness new civilizations rising from the ashes.
Only after much time did he realize it wasn't the world accelerating, but rather, he was "skipping" vast amounts of information. His "observations" had become intermittent, changing from continuous observation to brief glimpses spaced years or even decades apart. These fragmented snapshots had created the illusion of rapid progress.
He hadn't noticed this sooner because, during the gaps in his vision, his mind had also been suspended. When his vision resumed, his thoughts continued seamlessly, making it impossible to perceive the interruptions in real-time.
"Oh, no…"
This thought flashed through his mind like a lightning bolt, though in reality, that single thought probably spanned several centuries.
As he formed these three words, he watched yet another kingdom rise and fall in his mind's eye.
Gaowen knew something was terribly wrong. From the images flickering across his mind, spanning years in each frame, he realized that his consciousness was on the verge of vanishing altogether.
Every century, his total time for thought likely amounted to less than a second.
And the gaps in his perception were only growing longer.
He noticed that the rapid jumps on the land below had reached incomprehensible extremes. The "slideshow" of fleeting images had become so disjointed that it was nearly impossible to understand what was happening.
If this continued, there would come a moment when the mind known as "Gaowen" would completely fade, forever locked in this unknown place, with no hope of ever "rebooting."
For the first time in countless millennia, Gaowen felt a sense of urgency. He frantically pushed his mind, trying to escape this predicament. He imagined his thoughts racing (if he still had a brain, that is), countless ideas erupting, yet with each fleeting "slide" of the world below, he knew that his thoughts had already slowed to a glacial pace, waiting millennia between each frame.
Of course, that might sound exaggerated, but the reality wasn't much better.
**Escape this situation. Escape this situation. Escape this situation…**
No matter the cost, no matter the means, he had to escape. Even if it meant going back to that doomed plane, anything was better than dying in this absurd way, in this bizarre place!
Gaowen felt his thoughts begin to blur, his consciousness fading. The once "seamless" connection of his thinking was breaking down, and he furiously forced himself to focus with all his might.
Yet, trapped in this fixed perspective, no amount of frustration or determination could change his state.
But then, just as he felt his mind was on the verge of vanishing or falling silent forever, a voice suddenly echoed from somewhere unknown: "Energy failure. Reboot of main system failed. Escape protocol initiated."
In the next instant, the fixed perspective vanished, and darkness swept over Gaowen.
But his thoughts didn't cease.
For the first time in countless millennia, he could "close his eyes" and still think.
He had no idea how long he remained in that darkness. He felt as though he were tumbling, falling, descending into a cold, cramped place. Sensations, long unfamiliar, flooded back into his limbs, overwhelming his mind. Amid this chaos, he vaguely heard the panicked voice of a young woman. Her voice quivered with urgency, saying, "Wait… don't kill me just yet! More importantly, your ancestor's coffin lid is about to burst open!"