It was their fleeting life, striving for survival, striving for existence, unfolding at the crossroads of fate and time.
Or rather, everything they experienced during the flow of time is encapsulated in this long river of years.
What seems to be a vast river composed of droplets is actually a representation of each person's fate and lifetime.
Yet, even these countless life images, compared to the roaring torrent of time, are merely insignificant waves.
Zheng Yi looked upwards, towards the end of the river of years, only to see swirling mists tightly enveloping the end, like a thin veil, concealing the future years completely.
In an instant, faced with this vast and ethereal cosmos, he was but a speck of dust, unable to see clearly the changes of future years with his eyes, at the flowing end of the river of years, where all possible future changes and causes lie.
