For a full half month, Qin Yang had been lying there like a corpse. Even when Drift Bottles smashed into his face, he did not actually feel much, but the experience itself was anything but pleasant.
At first, he had stubbornly tried every method he could think of. There were simply too many Drift Bottles raining down, giving him ample chances to experiment slowly.
Gradually, when nothing could stop them and he could only watch helplessly as those Drift Bottles shattered against his face, his mentality had nearly exploded.
But after that, Qin Yang slowly calmed down.
A blown-up mentality? Impossible. What he felt now was only terror.
What kind of power did these seemingly harmless Drift Bottles use that made every one of his powers unable to block them?
If this could happen, it clearly meant his power and the other side's power were not on the same level.
Or perhaps they belonged to two entirely different major categories, and his own power was insufficient to bridge that divide.
Take Netherworld Souls and Body Refiners, for example. At low levels, Netherworld Souls could forget about breaking a Body Refiner's defenses, while a Body Refiner relying solely on flesh could not beat a Netherworld Soul to death either.
But once a Body Refiner's strength reached a certain level, pure power alone could cause a qualitative change. Those Netherworld Souls said to be immune to physical attacks would still be hammered into annihilation with one punch.
Specialized artifacts were already recording the information within the Drift Bottles automatically from beginning to end, without missing a single word.
Qin Yang looked as though he were spacing out, but he was actually studying what exactly these Drift Bottles were and what their essence was.
They absolutely could not be mere thoughts. They could