The bright sunshine fell from a cloudless blue sky, the multicolored blood on the ground gleamed in the sunlight, like vibrant jewels radiating brilliance.
Dust stirred by fallen trees drifted in the air, allowing the sunlight to clearly reveal every tiny silhouette.
The Human-Faced Lion withdrew its hand, in front of it, the Lizard with a hole in its chest wobbled side to side, eyes wide open, showing a look of unwillingness as it fell to the ground.
The flesh and blood in its palm felt so real.
But is this reality, truly real?
A trace of doubt flashed through the Human-Faced Lion's heart.
Since just now, its senses — sight, touch, hearing — originally meant for perceiving the outside world, have become unreliable, non-functional.
It felt that the scene before its eyes also turned somewhat illusory; was it the Lizard it killed, or was it the Lizard that killed it?
Just that it was completely unaware of its own death.
What is real? What is fake?
