By Meng Zhao's reckoning, a Celestial being might be able to erase his physical existence, but it was hardly possible for one to use such a method to deceive his soul and will. That was simply too inconceivable.
But if it was neither the former nor the latter, where had Gan Mingfeng gone? Why was he suffering from such a cognitive distortion? Could it be that he had already fallen prey to something without even realizing it?
If it had been an ordinary martial artist, even a Grandmaster, they might have fallen into a state of self-doubt. They would know that something was wrong, yet be unable to find the source of the problem. In the end, driven frantic by anxiety, they would likely lose the initiative and give others an opening to exploit.
Meng Zhao was different. He had absolute confidence in himself, and with so many Trump Cards at his disposal, he still held the ape-like fiendish beast in one hand. Vast power gathered in his palm, forming an invisible chain that bound and restrained the thing within, ensuring that no matter how formidable a fiend it was, it could not escape his grasp.
He then shut his eyes tightly and carefully recalled everything that had happened before, hoping to find through some detail exactly where the problem lay.
With Meng Zhao's mind, it still took him three recollections before he realized that the change might have occurred at the very instant the white mist intertwined with the black earthly qi. The world before his eyes had seemed to become an entirely different heaven and earth.
That feeling had been exceedingly hazy. He had assumed it was merely a normal reaction to entering the white mist, never imagining that the moment the white mist and black earthly qi