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When the tongkao finished whispering into his ear, Wen Daolun nodded thoughtfully. The tongkao then drew close to the pale azure incense and took several more greedy sips of smoke before she finally, and very reluctantly, drifted back into the piece of seabed wood that served as her home.
Wen Daolun’s expression turned serious. “It’s no wonder you felt almost nothing. She couldn’t enter your spiritual sea at all.”
“Why not?”
“Every person’s spiritual sea has some instinctive layer of defense. It’s a natural barrier that rejects intruders. My tongkao only looks like a child, her yin age[1] is over three hundred years old. Slipping into someone else’s spiritual sea is normally a trivial matter for her.” Wen Daolun’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “But she just told me that the outermost layer of your spiritual sea is a maze. She lost her way several times and nearly couldn’t find her way back out.”
“A maze?” That answer was so far from what He Lingchuan had expected that he was stuck staring for a moment. “She couldn’t just force her way through?”
“You want her to force her way in?” Wen Daolun gave a short laugh. “If she tried to smash through and disrupt your spiritual sea’s structure, you could end up witless or simple-minded.”
That pulled his thoughts sharply back to the last time a god had barged straight into his consciousness. Afterward, he had felt so drained and exhausted that he could have slept three days and three nights without waking. However, he was certain that he had not turned dull or slo...
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