Kuai Hongji slowly walked to the desk, picked up "Amon's music box" in his hand, and then gradually infused the soul of the music box into it.
As the music box was constantly perfected, the melody of "ding ding dong dong" began to play nonstop, and the entire bedroom astonishingly exhibited the grating effect, as if caught in endless light band slices.
The bedroom clearly hadn't changed at all, but when the perspective started to move, the physical laws of the bedroom would readjust, making it once again appear as a "bedroom."
"What's going on?" Lin Yi asked, "Why does this bedroom have an illusory feel to it?"
"Idiot, saying this makes you as foolish as that bald guy from the Tang Dynasty." Kuai Hongji scoffed, "The strangest part is when something that appears just like reality emerges in the depths of the layers, the illusory is what's real."
"Your memory is almost recovered. When will you change from Tang Sanzang to Tang Sanzang, huh?"
