Ever since the second trial began, An Bao's gaze had turned vacant, his reactions sluggish. As he walked, he would always hear someone complain, "I don't want to work" or "Life is so tiring," while his own inner voice was so faint it was drowned out by the others.
He reached up to touch the top of his head, yet his own hand felt nothing against his scalp.
He hadn't forgotten the trial, but his sense of time had become jumbled. He wasn't sure if he had practiced in the morning, or yesterday, or how many days had passed at all.