In an instant, consciousness was like a flash of lightning, once again piercing through layers of darkness and fog.
The surrounding scenery changed, twisted, and reorganized rapidly, as if fast-forwarding.
When clarity returned to his vision, Fang Cheng found himself "standing" in a tall, circular hall.
Countless points of light adorned the do above, resembling a brilliant galaxy, creating a sacred and vast atmosphere.
In the center of the hall, dozens of people in uniform white plain clothes sat cross-legged, forming a circle.
Ethereal and lodious music, combined with deep and obscure chanting, echoed endlessly.
It seed that they were conducting a special religious ceremony similar to ditation.
"This is... Yong’an Island, the ditation Hall of the Truth and ditation Joint Practice!"
Fang Cheng imdiately realized.
His current "perspective" ca from one of the ditators in this group.
He could even "feel" the posture of this body sitting cross-legged, and the slightly sweet scent of incense drifting through the surrounding air.
In the central seat was a middle-aged man, thin and wearing glasses.
It was the sa Chen Jiandong who was a ntor from before.
"Apparently, I projected my consciousness onto a mber of the True Thought Society, participating in this practice course from his perspective..."
Fang Cheng understood.
However, the ditation target of this mber was probably no longer the "Great Him" they praised.
But rather an "invader" whose consciousness descended here through an invisible channel.
Although it was a one-way projection, the possessed mber of the True Thought Society vaguely sensed sothing unusual.
Fang Cheng could perceive a trace of confusion and unease, along with a hint of surprise from the depth of the other’s consciousness.
It was like seeing an unanticipated light in the darkness, responding to him.
The person’s pupils slightly dilated, lips moved, as if wanting to say sothing.
Almost at the sa mont, Chen Jiandong, sitting at the center, suddenly opened his eyes.
His sharp gaze felt substantial, scanning the mber upon whom Fang Cheng’s consciousness was attached.
Fang Cheng’s heart shivered and cut off the spiritual channel, instantaneously pulling back his projected consciousness.
In the dark hall, the glow on the golden orb dimd slightly.
Fang Cheng took a deep breath, calming his mind.
Next, he searched around with his gaze, directing his attention to another, seemingly dimst and finest light pattern.
Again choosing [one-way projection].
This ti, there was no clear visual scene at the start.
A sudden unfamiliar and anxious voice rang in his ears, as if encountering an unexpected situation, crying out.
"Who are you... Ah!!"
Soon after, a sharp pain seed to be coming from his face, as though struck hard by a punch.
Fang Cheng instinctively wanted to raise a hand to defend and counter-attack, but as soon as the thought arose, he suddenly realized.
He was only projecting his consciousness right now, not present bodily, unable to control this body.
Chaotic curses, muffled sounds of fists and feet colliding, and the surging pain from various parts of the body flooded in like a tide.
Fang Cheng could feel himself, or rather the owner of this body, being kicked to the ground.
Soon, several feet rained down relentlessly, harshly striking the back, waist, and legs.
The owner of this body could only curl up on the ground, hands wrapped around his head, emitting painful moans and futile pleas.
Such pain was trivial to Fang Cheng, like scratching through a boot, hardly anything.
Instead, he used this opportunity to closely observe his surroundings.
Dim lighting, cold iron bars, narrow space.
And the fierce n clad in uniform prison garb around him...
"This... seems like a prison cell?"
Fang Cheng thought to himself.
The feeling was so real, real enough to send chills down one’s spine.
At this mont, this dim spiritual channel seed unable to bear the pain from the body, automatically interrupting.
Fang Cheng’s consciousness instantly returned to his body.
Standing in the dark hall of the mory Palace, he touched his nose reflexively.
As if the punch really landed on his face just now.
"Tsk, haven’t felt this first-hand, beaten sensation for a long ti."
With anger simring in his heart, Fang Cheng broke into a smile:
"Could it be... I’m sowhat nostalgic?"
Savoring the almost real pain, the smile on Fang Cheng’s face gradually faded.
He lifted his head, his gaze fell on the golden orb hovering before him, pondering again the differences between the two spiritual link thods.
If the special sensing ability from the Golden Benba Bottle’s Spirituality was a forceful intervention, seeming sowhat crude and inefficient.
"Spiritual Resonance" was a more advanced and profound interaction at the spiritual level.
It emphasized "consciousness resonance" and "emotional connection," rather than re power suppression or interference.
Compared to the forr, the link established by spiritual resonance was more stable, more secretive, capable of transmitting more information.
To give an illustrative taphor, this mode of contact wasn’t a strand easily broken, but a broad and deep tunnel.
Reflecting on the differences, Fang Cheng also gained a profound understanding of the spiritual abilities he mastered.
Whether absorbing external consciousness, refining it into purer spiritual energy, or establishing a spiritual link with a specific target.
These abilities actually had a certain chance of being comprehended and mastered through persistent ditation practice.
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