"Vector Space."
At that moment, Fu Qing slowly turned around and straightened his back. The roasted chicken leg no longer held any appeal in his eyes.
He stared quietly at Liu Di, a surge of shock churning in his heart.
They had only been trapped here together for a few short hours.
Yet this little guy had actually figured out Topological Space, and in a way he himself could not understand.
And now—
He had begun asking about the second level of the eighth dimension.
Fu Qing felt as if he were dreaming.
Since when—
Had the threshold for eighth-dimensional abilities become so low? So low that even such a tiny little guy could hop right in?
Could this little guy truly be something extraordinary?
Fu Qing slowly sat upright atop the boulder and took an inkstone and an ink stick from his robes.
Liu Di's gaze shifted. He did not understand what Fu Qing was doing.
That was—
The ink and inkstone from the four treasures of the study?
An inkstone was essentially a carefully carved stone slab, while an ink stick was a solid formed by blending carbon and glue, then drying it.
Add some water to the inkstone and gently grind the ink stick against it, and it would produce the ink used by ancient Chinese people for writing.
Liu Di asked in confusion, "What is this?"
Fu Qing sat upright, snapped open the paper folding fan bearing the character "Literature" with one hand, and extended a finger with the other. Pointing at the ink stick, he drew circles in the air. The ink stick then began spinning by itself, grinding ink against the stone.
"Ah..."
"I, the mighty King of the Insectoid Race of the eighth dimension, with all my spatial abilities, am left with only