Golden goblets stand, and the candlelight flickers.
Crimson carpets embroidered with golden patterns are scattered with petals, layers of drapes fall from the dome, and the leather-bound books and parchment scrolls on the table remain suspended in silence.
Su Ming'an opens his eyes.
His mind is filled with a dense array of pain, a phantom pain as if his flesh is being dissected by countless mouthparts. But this pain isn't sharp; instead, it has the numbness of a hangover.
His last memory is watching his body being nibbled away bit by bit by spikes, bit by bit diminishing. Lu's anxious face didn't seem feigned... even as teammates, one cannot control the instincts of the food chain.
It seems jellyfish are indeed very tasty.
He lifts his head, and in front of him is a familiar ceiling.
...Has it rebounded?
Which point in time has he returned to... it seems like... Su Liujin's room when the instance first opened?
