"Are you asking who I am?"
Hearing Leo Ray's question, a trace of confusion surfaced on the deeply wrinkled, aged face of the sand-robed old man. His face was filled with a sense of vicissitude as he began to mutter to himself: "Three thousand years have passed, and this has always been a question I've pondered. Sadly, even if I rack my brains, I can't remember any useful information."
"I seem to be just a speck of dust among the myriad particles, unaware of my origin or my destiny."
"Who am I? Who exactly am I? Why did I fall here? Who buried me here? And who did I bury in the past?"
Having said this, the sand-robed old man shook his head helplessly at Leo Ray and responded: "Young one, you are the second person in three thousand years to ask me this question, but regrettably, I still can't answer you because I've forgotten too much. Everything about me is incomplete."
