In the mystique realm, the restrictions of time had been lifted, allowing everything within it to flow more naturally now. As Zhao Li Xin's power continued to grow, the mystique realm itself had expanded once again.
Where there had once been only the manor and its immediate surroundings, there now stretched a vast and ethereal white bamboo forest and a serene lake that shimmered like glass under the pale light.
The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful—almost otherworldly in its perfection. Yet, to any observer who looked more closely, a subtle, unsettling strangeness lingered. The air was still and unnervingly silent, devoid of the usual sounds of life: no chirping birds, no buzzing insects, no rustle of creatures moving through the underbrush. It was as if the realm, for all its beauty, existed in a state of lifeless suspension.
