He paused, slightly furrowing his brows, standing still.
His gaze seemingly casually swept over the wizards passing by in the hallway, the busy mechanical bodies, and the flowing glow of runes on the walls.
Nothing unusual.
But that feeling of being "clung to" by "something" at an extremely close distance lingered.
Fortunately, Jeming had experienced so much, and he was familiar with this kind of feeling.
He quietly operated the Body Refining Technique, constantly recalling the source of that sense of dissonance.
One second, two seconds...
Finally, under the push of the adaptive evolution of the Body Refining Technique, Jeming's perception rapidly broke through a certain boundary.
Some extremely delicate "concealment layer," like cicada wings covering the boundary of his perception, revealed a slight, insignificant "fold."
Jeming suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as lightning, precisely locking on a seemingly empty spot at his side.
