"Ill?"
"Am I sick?"
Lin Xing reflected on his various memories, especially those that had just revived, starting from when he was five years old—constantly killing and being killed—and a flicker of enlightenment gradually passed through his heart.
He felt as if his originally dark sea of consciousness was illuminated by a bolt of lightning, unbearably bright.
The answer from his father in his memory suddenly awoke him, freeing him from his recent confusion.
"Time reversal, such a powerful ability, was still too much against the natural order for a mere five-year-old me."
"Naive and young, I simply couldn't control such a superpower."
"It was because of the burden of the superpower that I, at just five years old, was driven crazy alive and developed a mental illness."
"That's the reason why I started killing people indiscriminately at that time."
"It's not me who's wrong, but the superpower."
"I'm merely a victim of this superpower."
