Every question was like a precise poisoned sting, piercing the softest forbidden corner of Tang Wutong's consciousness.
Her pupils suddenly constricted, and violent ripples abruptly spread across that desolate place in her mind that had been forcibly smoothed over.
Blurry, shattered fragments of images surged forth.
It was an extreme cold steeped in divine essence, as if her soul had been ruthlessly split in two—one half sinking into eternal night, the other exposed to blazing light.
Faint, childish, despairing sobs seemed to echo by her ears, as though they came from another self that had been torn apart.
There were also two hazy figures. One was imposing and indifferent; the other was gentle yet filled with grief. The gentle figure seemed to be desperately begging for something, only to be pushed away by the imposing one...
"No... Stop! Don't think about it anymore!"
Tang Wutong clutched her head in agony, her pink-blue hair disheveled and stuck to her sweat-drenched cheeks.
"An illusion! These are all vicious illusions you created!"
She could clearly sense that when those memory fragments attempted to piece themselves together, a vast and warm force deep within her Sea of Consciousness suddenly awakened. Like an invisible barrier, it brutally suppressed them and even tried to completely crush the traces of those returning memories.
She knew this force all too well. It was Tang San's Divine Power, originating from her bloodline and divine soul—the protective mark that had silently been branded into her when she descended to Douluo Continent.
Now that she thought about it, how was this protection? It was clearly an indestructible shackle upon her divine soul, imprisoning her thoughts.
"That is not an illusion. It is your true memory, which was sealed away."
Lu Jun's tone suddenly rose, carrying an unwavering, unquestionable force.
"What Tang