The Poet’s voice carried a hint of a smile, "Do you understand now?"
The stranger nodded, half-comprehending.
"As long as there is soone who can read this book, you are not truly dead. And when I record my story within it, I will, like you, gain eternal life.
I will die, but I will also live, living within the heart of every reader, guided by them to the distant future."
A hateful smile appeared on the face within the flas as he affird everything about the stranger, speaking like a chant.
"Unbound, eternal circulation."
The stranger responded, words like a child’s dream-talk.
"Endless poetry."
A raging fire erupted from the Poet, scorching the earth, climbing up to the roof, in an instant devouring everything inside, dragging the entire house into the flas, transforming into a soaring torch, illuminating the village and the mountains.
"Now you are a Poet too."
The figure in the flas collapsed and was extinguished, turning into ashes with smoldering embers.
The Poet dropped the Iron Hamr, clutched the poetry tight, and ran towards the mountains without looking back, never to return.
...
The scene began to blur and dissipate, Bologue returning to this bustling world.
The overlap between the ghost and Bologue was but an instant, yet for Bologue, that instant felt indescribably long, as if he truly lived the stranger’s life, then bid farewell to it.
Bologue’s mind was sowhat dazed, his head splitting with pain, various thoughts crashing wildly in his mind, self-awareness beginning to deviate, in a brief mont, he even thought he was the stranger.
Fortunately, this did not affect Bologue for long; after all, Bologue was a tough character who spent a long ti in the Black Prison. His will was unimaginably strong, and in less than a minute, Bologue completely severed himself from those mixed mories.
"Lost..."
Bologue murmured, Belli’s warnings to him were coming true, one by one.
The spirits flying around the storm seed to be the "heart" of individuals, containing their mories of this life. The "soul" is frozen on the ground, waiting to be destroyed into dust by the storm, returning to the blazing white core of the storm, while the "body" is abandoned in the world, returned to the dust.
This might just be death.
Bologue didn’t have ti to think about the "endless poetry" in his mind; his "heart" was being pulled toward the storm’s core, while the "soul" on the ground remained frozen, still standing firm amidst the storm’s fury.
This should be Bologue’s Blessing; the Ti Reversing Axis was taking effect. His "body" in the mortal world had not yet died, firmly locking the "soul," so the frozen ice sculpture was undestroyed by the storm; yet, Bologue’s "heart" was returning to the storm.
Damn, how did a promotion ceremony end up like this!
Bologue’s heart scread, unable to resist all this. Just as he was about to be swept into that blazing white core, a pulling force erged.
As if a taut bowstring was released in an instant, Bologue’s vision began to twist, pulled into glowing lines.
Bologue fell uncontrollably toward the ground, crashing hard into the frozen sculpture, rging once more with his "soul."
The frost on his body crumbled one by one. Before Bologue understood the situation, a lodious voice ca from afar, and Bologue turned his head as a familiar scene played out again.
A rusty ship anchor broke through the storm’s fury, crashing in front of Bologue, chains tightened, plowing through heavy dust on the ground.
Without hesitation, Bologue lunged with all his strength, grabbed a corner of the massive ship anchor, and was dragged into boundless darkness.
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