What?
Many people failed to understand what Jeff meant.
Facing the largely baffled "ghosts," Jeff gestured back at Dumb Sand on the beach and added a highlighting effect.
"I mean, this thing that looks so stupid is clearly just an accumulation of sand. Its structure is loose, with no strength or toughness to speak of. So why, after entering the Formatted Space, can it still move freely while carrying the continuous output of Format Fire? Gentlemen, do you have an answer?"
No one responded immediately. Some were still pondering the deeper meaning of his words, but others were quicker on the uptake. The youngest, Mr. Herman, was deep in thought when inspiration struck. He rounded that bend and blurted out:
"This is a threat!"
Jeff raised his brows and added one more word. "An enormous threat."
Dumb Sand, now prominently marked by Jeff, continued its comical back-and-forth crawling, hopping repeatedly between the ordinary beach and the Formatting Domain sustained by the Burners.
Yet without a doubt, it spent most of its time playing the spoiler, adding to the chaos for the constantly arriving newcomers—the severely imbalanced and frantically scrambling "experimental equipment"—while also enduring the Formatting Domain's rejection and bombardment.
For most of the current viewers, influenced by the cheerful atmosphere on Zeolite Beach, it was difficult to associate the flashing arcs and electric sparks in the air with anything "lethal."
But in the visualized display before these senior attendees, every hit Dumb Sand endured had been measured, labeled, and compared.
Bald Jeff made a simple conversion of those figures and put it in easier terms. "Over the past twenty minutes, this sand demon has withstood forty-six impacts from Format Fire. The smallest were under one hundred joules, so let's filter those out. Let's set a higher standard: over four thousand