Qin Yang's first reaction was the same as the Dream Master's: count them one by one first.
Yet in the time it took for a single thought to flash through his mind, he had already counted them over a dozen times.
Without the slightest suspense, the deeply rooted truth in his mind had suddenly developed the tiniest deviation, a minute flaw.
He could also sense that after discovering that flaw, some force seemed to be making up for it.
No, it was making him forget.
But the instant that thought surfaced, Qin Yang rejected it outright.
As someone who possessed the Plastic Black Sword, and someone who had traveled far along this path, no one understood everything concerning the path of memory better than he did.
This was not forgetting. It should have been shifting his attention, making him never notice that flaw again.
This was not forgetting. Rather, the thing was still sitting plainly before everyone's eyes, yet no one would ever notice it.
When you saw something, what you actually saw was merely the light it reflected into your eyes, after which your brain constructed that thing.
To a certain extent, seeing was not truly seeing.
When you saw it, yet your brain failed to make the response it should have; when you sensed it, yet it did not truly register, and you would not even think of it—
Even if that thing were as conspicuous as Mount Kui, it would be no different from not existing.
It was like a flaw. A kind of force made everyone unable to notice it.
It was completely different from his own cultivation.
Qin Yang sighed, unsure whether he felt regret or relief.
He definitely had nothing to do with this Twelfth Master. At first glance, it might have seemed like