Tick, tick, tick.
The bronze-colored second hand swings silently, and a cup of tea, long gone cold, sits on the table.
The first ray of morning light slips through the window, and the young man sits on the bed. As his eyes open and close, the somewhat scattered look in them gradually gathers.
"Du, report the time," he says.
Du dutifully relays, "Anjiang! It is now the sixth day of the instance (April 7, 2025), 6:40 AM! A new day has begun, have a good mood!"
Su Ming'an blinks; he has reset to this morning.
...
[——Time until the Red Sun Descends: 5 hours and 20 minutes.]
...
Su Ming'an stretches out his hand, and the white mark in his palm flares up——
When he opens his eyes again, he is standing on a wasteland. The sky is a monotonous grey-white, the earth barren, with no sign of life in sight.
——This is his "small world."
The initial world, where nothing exists. As the "Creator God," he can sketch it freely.
