Watching his own arm pass effortlessly through the dried lama's hand, Li Huowang instantly understood what was happening. As he lifted his head, his whole body plunged downward, crashing directly onto the ceiling beneath him.
Standing firm, Li Huowang lifted his head, staring up at those dried lamas above, and at the Li Huowang encircled by them. Clearly, Fengdu was not a place meant for the physical body.
Li Huowang could still hear the lama's chanting incantations, but it was as if they were muffled behind a veil—hazy, indistinct.
The sensation was incredibly strange; walking felt weightless, as if he had no mass at all. "So this is a soul separation? Does this world truly have spirits? Then why aren't there any ghosts?"
Remembering what the lama had said earlier, Li Huowang didn't linger. He clenched his fists and strode toward the doorway.
