"It's quite special, isn't it?"
"Yes," Mo Ling replied, still not fully recovered from his shock.
"Can you make anything of it?" the balloon pressed.
"I can't," Mo Ling answered honestly.
In his perception, the ball of thread was just a tangled mess of information, completely meaningless.
"That's alright. Let me explain..."
"First, direction. This mass of hostility has no source and no target. It connects head to tail, as you can see."
"Second, time. The thread is so thin, which means the time involved is very long—you could even consider it 'infinite.' It will never arrive."
"Then there's how tangled it is. It's a complete mess, and the force of the tangles is immense, which indicates the intensity of the hostility is very high."
"Higher than the intensity of a star?" Mo Ling asked, confused.
