"What?" Even with Shang Xiye's exceptional intelligence, he couldn't quite understand what she was saying.
"Don't move. If you feel anything, don't resist. I won't hurt you."
As Ji Fengyao spoke, she cupped his face and slowly pressed her forehead against his.
A wisp of her divine soul, enveloped in the aura of extreme fire, cautiously seeped into his sea of consciousness.
"Yao Yao..." Shang Xiye sensed her intrusion and instinctively felt that what she was doing was extremely dangerous, so he called out to her uneasily.
"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Ji Fengyao's soul sent him a comforting message.
She was also shocked.
His sea of consciousness was even larger than hers, yet his soul was only a wisp?!
If it were a normal mortal with only a wisp of soul, they probably wouldn't even be able to become an idiot; they'd just become a vegetable.
Ji Fengyao didn't dare get close to his soul, fearing that if the outcome wasn't what she expected, the extreme fire's aura could ignite his fragile soul with a tremor.
She continued to carefully examine him within his consciousness.
She didn't touch or pry into those flickering fragments of memory—his memories from this life. They were his privacy, and she had no right to infringe upon them.
The place Ji Fengyao went to was the dark area within his sea of consciousness, a fragment of memory.
This place holds memories he has forgotten, or has temporarily forgotten.
But strangely, these memory fragments were all blank and shattered!
Such a degree of memory loss would result in a devastating blow to one's very soul unless one completely erases their memories.
What terrible thing did he go through?
Ji Fengyao's soul wandered through these dark and shattered fragments of memory, observing everything that was so unusual with alarm.
Suddenly, she noticed a tiny fragment floating in a darker area.
Huh, there's still a little bit of debris left?
Ji Fengyao's soul quickly floated over and carefully enveloped the fragment.
The images in the fragments were extremely blurry, making it almost impossible to see the people inside; fortunately, the sound was faint but still barely audible.
It was a conversation between a man and a little boy on a fairy mountain shrouded in mist:
"How did your practice of the Life-Giving Technique go today?" the man asked seriously.
"You've practiced very well, and you're very good at it," the little boy said with great pride.
"Oh? What kind of herb did you force to grow? Let your father see its age and medicinal properties. You've become so smug." The man chuckled affectionately and helplessly.
"Look, that grove of towering trees is it," the boy casually pointed to the woods ahead.
The man looked up and stared in fury: "Those are the Vermilion Fruits I planted three thousand years ago. They stop flowering and bearing fruit after eight thousand years, and you've forced them all to grow to ten thousand years?!"
The man reached out to grab the boy next to him and beat him up, but the boy, as slippery as an eel, had already run away!
"Mo Linxian, you stop right there, or I'll break your legs!" The man's furious roar echoed across the immortal mountain.
The boy's cheerful laughter rang out from further away: "Am I stupid? Dad, instead of hitting me, you should hurry up and cut down the trees. If you can revive your family, perhaps your cinnamon orchard can still be saved."
The fragments are small and contain little information.
My memory ends abruptly here.
Ji Fengyao laughed, her eyes brimming with tears.
Her spirit gently leaned against Shang Xiye's fragile soul, then withdrew from his empty and desolate sea of consciousness.
Shang Xiye opened his eyes as if sensing something, and seeing her bloodshot, tear-filled eyes, he was extremely puzzled: "Yaoyao, what's wrong with you?"
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