This time, the area he teleported was no longer cube-shaped.
The moment the thought of teleporting crossed his mind, it was as if a voice softly whispered by his ear:
"You are free."
Mo Ling instantly forgot all restrictions.
He forgot every previous process of teleportation. As though using this ability for the first time, he awkwardly grasped the shifting space before him.
Once he understood everything clearly, teleportation was no longer a black-box operation whose principles he did not understand. It became an instinct he knew inside and out.
Like "breathing."
Breathing could be fast or slow, deep or shallow, long or short... Teleportation was the same, completely at his will.
The instant his thoughts became clear, time seemed to stop.
Everything in the plaza froze in that instant. Dust floating in the air was fixed in the wind, and the wind itself became a vector temporarily unable to flow. Sunlight halted upon the objects it shone on, while photons that had yet to land hung in the infinitely stretching emptiness, carrying their energy.
It was like a sandbox prepared long ago, with everything inside arranged neatly in place.
Things in motion, things at rest, living things, dead things—all that existed had been stripped of their original Attributes and turned into decorations attached to space.
Even time became something nonexistent.
All things used change to describe time, but in a frozen sandbox, as long as no one moved the things within it, time did not exist.
Mo Ling seemed to stand outside the sandbox. His all-encompassing vision gazed upon everything. Space was a box, and everything inside that box entered his sight.
He wanted to take something out of the box, so he reached out.
His "hand" had originally been cube-shaped, but now he had found the true way