Gazing at the object, Zhang Deming's thoughts raced. A dreamlike light flashed, and with a grabbing motion at his head, he pulled a phantom image into his hand.
As the image flickered, an altar appeared.
Zhang Deming stared at the altar, comparing it with his memory for a long time. He found there wasn't the slightest difference between his memory and the model he had created. Clearly, it wasn't just his subconscious desire forcing the two to match.
Tossing the memory back into his mind, Zhang Deming's eyes glinted as he looked at the two virtual models that had fused together.
'So this beat-up box really is the thing from the core of that smaller altar on the main one? What would happen if I put it back?'
Looking at the object, at the two phantom models that fit together perfectly, Zhang Deming's curiosity was completely piqued.
It wasn't just curiosity. Based on everything he had experienced, combined with the information he knew, this altar and box were clearly not simple.
