Book of Hundreds of Worlds: When the Immortal Is Completely Defeated

: Every time you use the Book of Worlds, you are glad that you have "restarted" it and read the archive like a skilled player. But the truth is, the you who died in the last round because of stupidity, arrogance, or just plain bad luck is rotten, smelly, and turned to dust. What's sitting here panting now is just a... Replica that happened to be made of the same material and inherited all his memories and scars. What you thought was "a hundred lives" is just the same mold, repeatedly stamped a hundred times by fate with the mud of flesh and blood. Every "waking up" is a silent farewell to the previous corpse. You are mourning yourself, once, twice... Countless times. Jiang Yan: Get out! : Anger? Anger is a good thing, at least it proves that the physiological response module in this new body is functioning normally. But this consciousness of "you", this illusion of "I", what does it look like? Like traces engraved on a wax tablet. The first print was clear and profound. The second print was still clear. But until the hundredth time? The edges were blurred, the writing melting into a warm, meaningless grease. Do you still recognize what was written in the original version? Or are you already intoxicated with this ambiguity, and call this ambiguity "vicissitudes of life" and "wisdom"? Admit it, what you rely on is not "rebirth", but "forgetfulness". Forget how specific and meaningless your last death was, just like your useless life. Jiang Yan: Get out! [Da Ming on Steam] x [Chinese Cthulhu] x [Xiu Xian], seems to have a little bit of everything. : Do you think you are writing online articles? I think I am.