"No." The girl shook her head and looked at He Ao in confusion.
After a brief pause, she thought for a moment. "Does helping you 'restore' count?"
"Restore?" He Ao was a little puzzled.
"It's..." The girl raised her hand.
The pots, bowls, and utensils He Ao had picked up flew up on their own. The grime fell away, cabinet doors opened automatically, and the dishes were neatly put back inside.
The fallen grime dropped into the sink and was washed away by a stream of water.
In an instant, the entire house returned to its original state, exactly as it had been when He Ao first woke up.
The girl turned back and blinked. "That's 'restoration.'"
He Ao stared blankly at everything before him.
What surprised him was not the way those pots and bowls had been restored. He could accomplish that with his spiritual consciousness as well.
It was that, while the pots and bowls were being restored, his spiritual consciousness had not detected the slightest energy fluctuation.
In other words, in that instant, those moving pots and bowls had flown back by themselves.
Was that reasonable? Did that even fit the genre?
He Ao paused slightly, recalling the Octagon Cage his spiritual consciousness contamination had entered last night.
He placed his hand on the dining table before him and tried to send his spiritual consciousness into it.
At that moment, the solid dining table became, in the perception of his spiritual consciousness, some sort of illusory energy state the instant his consciousness sank into it.
He could not enter it.
He Ao withdrew his spiritual consciousness and looked up, sweeping his gaze across the room.
This entire house was probably not truly "solid." Or rather, it was not merely solid—it had been abstracted into some special form