A voice echoed in the depths of his mind, carrying an indescribable mechanical quality.
The voice was ice-cold, like the grinding of some cold metal, making his eardrums throb faintly.
However, the voice came and went in a flash.
After it spoke, silence descended once more, as if none of it had ever happened.
Zhao Yao's body regained its mobility.
He looked down at the palm of his hand.
The triangular piece of metal he had been holding was now gone without a trace.
His palm was as smooth as before, without a single wound or even the slightest mark.
'Could it be… I'm hallucinating?'
He furrowed his brow.
Thinking this,
he wiggled his fingers but felt no resistance.
Then, he shook his head, trying to clear it.
'If something really entered my body, it's impossible for there to be no wound at all.'
'Rather than believe something so absurd, I'd rather think I'm just hallucinating from being too tired lately.'
