The process was arduous and long.
An unknown amount of time passed.
A Moon Disc, radiating a faint silver glow, appeared in the depths of Han Ning's consciousness.
As the Moon Disc turned,
bits and pieces of familiar yet strange memories returned to his consciousness.
'My name is Han Ning... I'm twenty years old...'
'All these silver specks of light around me are fragments of my splintered soul. I need to gather them.'
With this realization, Han Ning stood up and reached out a finger, touching the nearest silver speck of light.
Reaching out was just a subconscious impulse. In reality, no finger extended; with a mere thought, the silver speck was drawn to him.
The silver specks of light gathered in increasing numbers. Seen from a distant, third-person perspective, one larger speck was attracting all the smaller ones.
All his actions were just a product of his imagination.
