That night, Zhao Feng sat upright in the small courtyard.
Turning his gaze inward, he sent his powerful divine sense deep into his sea of consciousness.
A spiritual glow shone within his sea of consciousness. Zhao Feng brought his divine sense closer and saw a small tower standing quietly at the center of the mist-shrouded space.
Its proportions were identical to those of the physical tower standing at the center of Mist Spirit Island, only reduced to the size of a palm. The faint light flowing evenly over its surface carried the same lingering aura as the tower on the island, casting a pale halo through the mist of his sea of consciousness.
"Isn't this the Heavenly Mechanism Tower?" Zhao Feng paused in surprise.
On closer inspection, this miniature Heavenly Mechanism Tower seemed to be only a phantom.
Several slender strands of purple qi circled the tower. Their ends drifted without fixed paths, but whenever they approached the tower, they naturally veered away to maintain a certain distance, as though preserving some established order.
Zhao Feng tried touching the little tower with his divine sense. Just before it reached the surface, it encountered a thin yet dense barrier. His divine sense was held outside, unable to penetrate any of the internal layers.
He tried again, increasing the strength of his divine sense and changing his tentative touch into a more concentrated contact. The barrier on the tower's surface briefly dented inward, as though performing some kind of verification, then rejected the contact-not by repelling it, but by guiding his divine sense back along a path around the tower, returning it to the gap between itself and the tower before restoring the complete barrier.
Immediately afterward, Zhao Feng sensed a message from the tower's phantom.
It was not conveyed through words,