Chapter 984

Ang rubbed his palms together, instantly forming a ring, then twisted hard—the ring expanded into a large circle, filled with complex magical runes and seals.

Faradi stared, dumbfounded, looking from the magical runes on the circle to Ang, unable to resist licking her lips, her eyes glowing with intense fascination.

Ang pushed outward with both hands, and within the large circle, smaller rings and circles nested layer upon layer; he held it steady with one hand while using the other to adjust the details.

The admiration and fervor in Faradi’s eyes faded, replaced by a flicker of fear; she silently stepped back two paces, her lips moving slightly.

Negril understood lip-reading—he saw her mouth forming the word “freak.”

Strength earns admiration, but strength beyond reason only terrifies; Faradi felt this ascetic Ang was no longer of the same species as her.

Hand-crafting a spell array was already impressive, but hand-crafting a multi-layered teleportation array? That was outright monstrous—this wasn’t something a human could possibly do.

And Ang held it with one hand while simultaneously adjusting coordinates—have you ever seen a world transit station? This was a living, humanoid world transit station.

Over ten minutes passed without completion; Anthony asked softly, puzzled: “What’s going on? This teleportation array seems far more complex than usual—is it that troublesome? If there’s danger, forget it—we can’t let the Lord risk himself.”

Ang had always created teleportation arrays in seconds; the fact he’d been adjusting for so long now clearly meant the difficulty was extreme.

Negril nodded: “It’s much more complex, but the little wraith is holding it up—just keep stacking. The issue isn’t the array itself—it’s the coordinates. The space where the coordinates lie is shifting, making alignment impossible.”

“Is it really inside a natural barrier?” Anthony asked.

Negril nodded: “Likely. And it’s a spatial-type natural barrier.”

The farm barrier was the most typical example of a spatial barrier; the Palace of Rest was a more complex type with stacked dimensions, but both were artificial.

Artificial barriers are relatively small; the void is vast and holds all manner of wonders—including naturally formed barriers, called natural barriers. The Abyssal Maw’s “Devouring Abyss” is one such.

The Maw consumes primordial essence, a natural force; the abyss it creates is therefore a “natural phenomenon.”

The “spatial-type natural barrier” Negril mentioned was likely similar to the Devouring Abyss—though certainly not at that level, or else merely linking to it would shatter everything.

After further adjustments, Ang finally grasped the pattern of spatial shifts; he rubbed his hands again, splitting the array into two halves—one slapped onto the ground, imprinting a complex teleportation pattern, the other small half held in his palm, where he kept it steady before activating.

Faradi smirked, muttering under her breath: “Definitely not human.”

Imprinting the base of the teleportation array onto the ground while holding the core coordinate array in his palm meant Ang had to endure the immense energy transfer between them—what was the difference between this and catching lightning and channeling it into the earth?

At this point, Faradi had completely abandoned the idea of setting Ang up on a date; such a being could only be matched by a goddess… wait, has the Dawn Goddess even married?

The Dawn Goddess probably never imagined her devotees were plotting against her; after final calibration, Ang linked the coordinates, continuously adjusting while releasing a spectral scout to teleport ahead.

The spectral scout materialized in pitch-black void—empty, silent, nothing around it; distant objects were invisible even to its sight.

But it didn’t matter—the scout was merely a pivot; through it, Ang extended his perception to weigh all things.

The empty void instantly resolved in Ang’s vision into grid-like spatial blocks, like a transparent Rubik’s Cube with countless squares.

The scout’s point of emergence was one such square, and that square was slowly shifting—soon it moved to an adjacent position, as if an invisible hand were twisting the cube.

At the edge of the square, a shadowy figure hid in the gap between two squares, peering cautiously at the scout—the shadow was surely the Dawn Goddess; she thought she was hidden perfectly, unaware she was fully exposed to Ang’s weighing perception.

Ang snapped back to focus and said to Negril: “Come.”

“Huh?” Negril blinked—this was rare: Ang had rarely ever asked for help. He immediately shared Ang’s vision.

“Oh, the space is moving? There’s a pattern—I’ll figure it out.” Negril saw the countless squares and instantly understood why Ang called him—he began rapidly analyzing the pattern.

Half an hour passed in silence; as the teleportation window neared closure, Faradi couldn’t help urging: “You’re not just sending a ghost over, are you? Aren’t you going? The window’s about to close!”

No one answered her. Ang kept weighing, Negril kept analyzing—they wouldn’t risk stepping through without confirming the other side.

On the other side, the Dawn Goddess remained hidden; she’d only seen the ghost, clearly not the main target, so she had no reason to reveal herself.

Seconds ticked by until the moment Faradi had warned—the square where the scout stood shifted three more positions.

Negril had deduced some patterns, but saw no “teleportation window”—only shifting squares. What did that have to do with a window closing?

“Move six coordinates left,” Negril said. Ang adjusted—and reconnected to the original coordinates, though the reference point had now shifted six positions.

“Still can teleport?” Negril was baffled: “Could it be… her so-called ‘teleportation window’ isn’t a spatial limitation at all—but just her bad math, limited to this point?”

Two hours passed; the movement pattern finally repeated. Negril slapped his waist: “Got it! I’ve deduced the transformation sequence—there are 736,921 possible variations. Plug in the current square’s position, and you get the exact coordinates. Simple.”

Anthony was bewildered: “Lord Negril, could you say something I can understand? If I teleport over, can I get back? Will I get trapped?”

Negril spoke with full confidence: “No. Even if you can’t teleport back, follow the movement pattern—you’ll escape this space within seven squares.”

Anthony never doubted Negril’s authority on knowledge; he nodded: “Good. I’m going.”

Stepping onto the array, a blinding flash—Anthony vanished, reappearing inside a square.

“Who? How? The teleportation window closed—how did you get in?” The Dawn Goddess’s shadowy figure emerged from the gap between squares, stunned.