Inside the room.
"Fake Jiang Qiao" repeatedly sliced at the clock on the ceiling, then bombarded the walls again and again. Yet the moment the clock fell, a new one immediately appeared in its place. The instant the walls cracked, they repaired themselves on their own.
All his attacks seemed utterly pointless.
Completely meaningless.
"Heh!"
The corners of Fake Jiang Qiao's mouth curled slightly as he turned his gaze toward the floor beneath his feet.
He raised his left hand.
Spreading all five fingers.
The blue-brick floor was instantly covered by a strange supernatural force. It was highly unusual—not offensive, yet possessing an eerie attraction and an innate gathering power.
At that moment, the entire room seemed to transform into a stage.
And Fake Jiang Qiao was like the one standing at center stage. Though the room was empty, an intense sense of focus suddenly appeared, with everything converging on Fake Jiang Qiao.
"Hm?"
"What kind of ability is this?"
Yang Ling's gaze sharpened. Whether it was the clock on the ceiling or the blue bricks composing the room, everything seemed to have been given life and gained a certain "activity." They began to tremble on their own.
Then, under the influence of that eerie supernatural power, they began to peel away before disappearing completely.
After peeling away.
The blue bricks did not repair themselves, and the clock did not reappear.
They vanished completely!
Fake Jiang Qiao took a step forward and disappeared directly into the gradually disintegrating room, returning to the hall.
However.
The moment he reappeared, a talisman immediately appeared beneath his feet.
Then the ground vanished beneath him.
He fell once more into a pitch-black unknown space.
The surroundings stretched endlessly,
with nothing but darkness.
The intense sensation of weightlessness created the illusion that one's soul had