Han Feng slowly sat down cross-legged before the ancient stele.
The next moment, he gently closed his eyes, and the vast, ocean-like soul power at his brow surged forth.
Buzz—
Invisible soul power rapidly gathered above Han Feng's head, ultimately taking the form of a lifelike humanoid figure identical to Han Feng himself.
This soul figure was nearly tangible, emitting a faint glow throughout its body. Even the folds of its robes and the drift of its hair were clearly visible, as though it were a work of art sculpted from light.
Not far away, Yao Ming, who had been cautiously standing guard, could not help but marvel at the sight.
Having lived for so long, he had never seen anyone condense ethereal soul power to such an almost materialized and terrifying degree.
Most experts of this age valued Dou Qi and neglected the soul. Even some eighth-tier grandmaster alchemists could never achieve such effortless control.
This lord's strength was truly unfathomable.
Just as Yao Ming's mind was reeling, Han Feng's soul body moved.
He took a step forward, his figure flashing like lightning as he drifted directly toward the massive Yellow Springs Stele. Without pausing in the slightest, he gently pressed his right index finger against the icy surface.
The instant his fingertip touched the stele, rings of ripples like water spread across the ancient stone surface.
Immediately afterward, a gentle yet irresistible suction force emerged from the stele. Drawn by that force, Han Feng's soul body was swallowed whole by the watery ripples and completely merged into the stele, vanishing from sight.
After a dizzying shift through space, Han Feng's soul body appeared within a strange independent space.
The sky here was gray and murky, while the ground was covered in dry cracks. A desolate, deathly aura