In the faint midst, one can hear the howling of the wind and the sound of the waves crashing.
Not a sliver of light can penetrate this thick, ink-like black fog.
All that the eye can see is utter chaos, as if all things between heaven and earth cannot escape being devoured by it ultimately.
This feeling is not only physical perception but also an icy coldness emanating from the depths of the soul.
It’s as though a harsh undercurrent flows through the dead silence of the void, wherever it goes, freezing all light and hope.
Random travelers who reach this place cannot remain calm and only wish to flee as fast as possible, to avoid the fate of falling into the Abyss.
And the faint light that envelopes their figure seems as if it could be extinguished by the fierce wind at any moment, utterly lost in the darkness.
In such a harsh environment, one would need a "target" to anchor their consciousness if they wish to stay for a long duration.
Fang Cheng continues his meditation, his eyes half-closed and halfway seeing, his ears halfway listening, slowly adjusting his mood, gradually merging into Meditation.
As his mood becomes tranquil, a faint light glimmers weakly in the darkness.
Meanwhile, a red light appears to seep from between Fang Cheng’s brows.
It’s as if the light makes him translucent, bursting forth with infinite brightness.
He feels... as though he has transformed into a flickering flame on burning kindling.
Immediately after, a roaring flame engulfs Fang Cheng from head to toe.
At this moment, he resembles a human torch ignited in the darkness.
The blazing light, like arrows shot forth, pierces through the thick, flowing black fog, illuminating this chaotic void that resides deep within consciousness.
The dense fog that seemed impossible to dispel is melting away quickly, turning into strands of even finer smoke, that drift off into the distance, retreating.
As the light expands outward, a comparatively stable and tranquil area is surprisingly revealed around him.
Fang Cheng slowly opens his eyes, his gaze deep and clear.
He is now completely "grounded."
Not only is his heart extremely peaceful, but his body and senses are also at their peak state, possessing a clarity beyond instinct.
It’s as if he is standing at the junction between reality and illusion.
Fang Cheng raises his head and takes a light sniff.
Seemingly, within this silent and cold darkness, he detects the unique scent of paper and the faint smell of dawn.
It’s refreshing and utterly delightful.
Fang Cheng’s eyes shine, and he immediately takes a step forward, extending his hand.
His fingertips lightly touch the air, which seems both substantial and empty.
Afterward, a white sheet of paper reveals a corner first, slowly unfolding.
With flickering light, lines of text vaguely emerge and gradually become clear.
Dense paragraphs form, like countless living sprites coming to life and moving.
Soon, a page filled with text is starkly presented before his eyes.
Flipping it over, a second page emerges at once.
As the pages appear faster and the flipping becomes more frequent, it resembles the continuous sound of wind blowing.
In an instant, they stack into a thick book, and finally, a solid cover is added.
A 1658-page National Dictionary vividly reappears in the space of consciousness.
Fang Cheng gently smooths the creases of the pages, and when his fingers touch the paper, he seems to feel knowledge flowing through his fingertips.
Then, taking this dictionary as a source, a faint pulsation emanates, creating concentric ripples in the air.
As the ripples quickly spread outwards, it’s as if by magic.
A solid wooden desk rapidly forms right beneath the dictionary.
Fang Cheng’s palm glides over the surface of the desk, touching the varied depths of wear and tear markings.
It seems he can see his once naive self, leaning over this desk in countless dawning mornings or in the dead of night, wielding a pen as a sword, fighting the sea of questions.
Especially worn is a corner on the left side of the desk.
Because there once lay a stack of thick reference books, bearing the weight of striving for a dream.
Running his fingers over all the marks, the memories of those days buried in books, which have somewhat faded, suddenly flash before his eyes like a movie.
Yellowing pages, densely packed notes, the alarm clock that accompanied his studies, and the desk lamp that always stayed on late into the night.
As the thoughts ripple outward, a miraculous scene unfolds.
On what was once an empty desk, neatly stacked books appear, a pen with its cap off, an alarm clock with its second hand moving slowly, a desk lamp reignited.
One item after another appears in front of him, filling the entire desk surface.
Then, starting with the desk as a source, a chain reaction-like spread ensues, extending out to scenes that seem just as real in every direction.
Windowsill, plants, curtains, glass...
Wardrobe, calendar, walls, ceiling...
Fang Cheng’s eyes sparkle, like a creator, as his pupils reflect the sight of each item being born from the void.
At this moment, he has fully grasped the knack for building a "Memory Palace."
It’s all about three steps: imaging, connecting, constructing.
Imaging is about converting memories from two-dimensional to three-dimensional, placing them into a virtual scene.
Whenever one needs to recall, they simply "see" the necessary information by entering this scene in their mind.
However, there’s a key problem here.
Once there’s an overload of information, memories can become increasingly chaotic, making it difficult for the brain to discern the truth.
Thus, the construction of a Memory Palace requires a "primer" from the very beginning.