The reason Zong Shen felt that it was unreal
was because this conversation itself had crossed the barriers of distance and time.
Who knew when this message in a bottle had actually been sent?
Yet these masters who had left behind their images could converse with him?
The very thought of it was wondrous, even somewhat unsettling.
After a moment of silence, considering that the black-and-white ink mist might not last long, he chose to answer.
"Who are you?"
This question made the two tiny figures in the ink painting burst into laughter.
"Interesting."
"Even if we told you the answer, regrettably, given your current circumstances, you likely would not understand. It would only add to your troubles."
"In the future, when you have the chance to set foot upon the Eastern Region, come seek us at Pure Bamboo Mountain."
"Chu Qingzhu and Sang Ninghai shall await your arrival."
"Within Sumeru, you and I can converse across time and space, but it cannot last."
"And we cannot divulge the secrets of heaven."
"Since you were able to open this bottle, it means you are a descendant of our clan. A fortuitous opportunity is naturally yours to receive."
Having said that, the two ink figures did not wait for Zong Shen's reply.
They both raised their teacups, toasted him, and drained them in one gulp.
Then, the black-and-white mist instantly blurred, and the ink images vanished.
The conversation from moments ago felt like an illusion.
The porcelain bottle in his hand suddenly crumbled into powder, which was then scattered by a breeze from who knew where.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
After the porcelain bottle turned to powder and disappeared, the remaining black-and-white mist abruptly collapsed inward and condensed, ultimately becoming a flawless white jade tablet that fell