Jun Moyan couldn't tell if it was his own illusion. He clearly couldn't see it, yet he felt its hurt through its unseen eyes.
It seemed aggrieved, aggrieved that he asked such a question.
Indeed, not only was it aggrieved, but it also blamed Jun Moyan, blamed him for forgetting it.
"Are you from the Netherworld? Why did you appear on me before, appear in my dreams, and now appear here?"
Jun Moyan urgently wanted to know if this thing was related to him.
He suddenly regretted telling the drunkard about his insomnia and nightmares that day, and he regretted even more taking the sleep aid the drunkard gave him.
He should have asked clearly in his dreams.
Seeing no response from the other side, Jun Moyan asked again, "Why are you here?"
"Because you're here."
It spoke, it really spoke.
No, it wasn't speaking; it was answering him in his mind, just like Jun Moyan.
But Jun Moyan heard it.
