Luo Nan didn't know that someone was paying close attention to his every move. Even if he knew, he wouldn't have the extra mental energy to care.
His condition was very bad: hunger, pain, numbness, and hallucinations. These negative elements didn't diminish with time—they only intensified. Moreover, they gradually converged and turned into a corrosive poisonous fire. Driven by some invisible force, it drifted through his internal organs, limbs, and bones.
This so-called incorporeal power was none other than the specter Luo Nan had discovered through his visualization.
The specter of today no longer had the mass of a mosquito. It controlled poisonous flames that flowed through the depths of Luo Nan's flesh and blood. It constantly devoured essence and energy, growing stronger while exerting increasing interference on him. It formed an effect similar to a blockade:
Every time Luo Nan tried to calm his heart, clear his thoughts, enter a meditative state, and study the source of the specter, intense disturbances would come howling from the plane of his body and mind, blasting him out.
If things continued like this, Luo Nan would sooner or later be exhausted to death by the specter if he kept entering the Fixed Space and suffering the backlash of failure.
The wraith had been trying to stir up Luo Nan's emotions.
It was just like his conflict with Li Xuecheng. Luo Nan had used a fatal psychological suggestion that nearly killed him. His ears still echoed with the faint, indistinct laughter of the specter.
He had been just a step away from breaking the string of reason.
Luo Nan also remembered the moment his palm pressed against Li Xuecheng's throat. Li Xuecheng's fear and despair had melted into his flesh and blood, forming a surging wave of heat that rushed in. However, it was destined to be a turbid flow. Not only could it not be used by him, it even swept away some of his Essence Qi. In the end, it vanished without a trace—but it wasn't hard to imagine where it went!
The specter used this method to rapidly grow stronger, squeezing Luo Nan's living space step by step.
Naturally, Luo Nan was in a bad mood.
But upon closer inspection, this feeling was mostly the unpleasant resurfacing of old memories, where the dregs had been stirred up.
He was very dissatisfied. Just now, because of the laptop… no, because of the flexible e-ink screen, he had become so angry.
This shouldn't have happened!
The flexible e-ink screen had been with him for five years, and he had long been used to focusing only on its practical functions. So where had that ruthlessness and impulse come from? Why had his absent-minded state surged out afterward?
Was it because his flesh and blood carried a certain person's genes?
That coward?
Heh!
Ironically, the specter's interference provided him with a convenient explanation—so much so that he even felt a subtle sense of relief.
Attributing everything to a ghost… made things much simpler.
The specter's interference had indeed caused a lot of trouble. But why did he have to stubbornly smash his head against it?
Luo Nan had entered the Fixed Space to draw support from that state and better understand the specter—to make contact, capture it, and eliminate it. The specter's obstruction only proved that his thinking was correct.
From Luo Nan's perspective, the one being stubborn was the wraith. To understand something, one didn't necessarily have to rely on the "Fixed Space."
He had a more direct method:
A pen and a piece of paper.
Over the years, he had collected character materials, described scenery, and sketched countless times to capture the characteristics of others. His writing might not have been structured, but his observational acumen had long reached a first-rate level.
Now, all he needed to do was create a special "self-portrait."
Lines flowed from the tip of the pen, layering and intertwining. His mind was neither close nor distant. He was focused yet relaxed, fluid and agile—almost to the point of losing control.
In a certain sense, hand drawing was freer than visualization.
The visualization diagram seemed to appear out of thin air, but it was actually very strict. It had to remain synchronized with one's body and mind. It couldn't be altered at will.
But a sketch on paper was different. It came from reality yet could transcend it. It could describe thoughts and concepts through fantasy, symbolism, and abstraction, fully liberating inspiration.
Back then, his grandfather had used hand-drawn diagrams to express the marvels of Formatting Theory. Now, Luo Nan could use similar methods to describe and explain the changes within his own body.
These changes could even be deduced on paper, forming a preliminary draft for a greater work.
Thus, Luo Nan drew a prison that didn't exist in reality, symbolizing the most prominent idea in his mind.
This was the first time he had ever been imprisoned. It was a novel experience, and he naturally connected it to the first sentence of the Sixteen Word Mantra:
My heart is like a prison.
Luo Nan believed the Sixteen Word Mantra was some form of interpretation of Formatting Theory left by his grandfather. Words like "prison," "furnace," "mirror," and "nation" directly described levels of Formatting. Based on his deductions, "prison" might even be an advancement of "container."
Thus, he used the cold, cramped confinement room as a reference. With the fluid motion of his pen, he gathered faint inspiration and used that indescribable "energy" to construct a unique structure belonging only to him.
Of course, he knew most of the structure was fantasy. It might not be usable in Formatting, but as long as it provided inspiration, it was enough.
As for the distorted image, it was even easier to explain.
The distortion came from within the structure itself.
The invisible specter was the root cause.
Though he couldn't see it, he could sense it indirectly through the distortion in the drawing.
The more elements he added, the closer the "self-portrait" approached reality.
At this moment, Luo Nan's pen and thoughts merged into one. There was no separation between them. The imaginary world unfolded before him once more. The tetrahedron, its inscribed sphere, and circumscribed sphere appeared clearly, overlapping with the drawn "prison" to form a marvelous image.
It didn't matter that he couldn't enter the Fixed Space.
He could recreate it here.
In fact, successfully recreating it proved his mind had already cast off external interference. The specter's actions were meaningless.
His pen didn't stop.
His mind had already returned to the Fixed Space.
The specter, which had been interfering all this time, was caught off guard. It finally revealed its true form.
Other colors seeped into the dark void surrounding the visualization. It was a deep, oppressive red—like embers still burning beneath ash. It merged with the darkness to form a vague silhouette.
It swam through the void, clinging to the visualization, attempting to penetrate it… and it had already succeeded partially.
Others might have needed time to discern its boundaries, but Luo Nan recognized it instantly:
The burning wraith!
It was the same entity he had glimpsed during the earthquake in the R&D district. It had howled and nearly taken his life before disappearing into nothingness.
He had even captured its image in his drawing software.
If not for this incident, he would be at school right now, researching and trying to trace it. Who could have imagined it would instead exist within his own consciousness, fused with his flesh and blood?
Luo Nan didn't stop drawing, but a faint smile curved his lips.
"Hey! You're smiling! You're smiling!" Lieutenant Colonel Lu blurted out involuntarily. Then he felt embarrassed, as if he had been influenced by Luo Nan to make such a fuss.
Zhang Yingying was also curious about Luo Nan's state of mind. Unfortunately, the monitor couldn't reveal his thoughts.
At that moment, a beep sounded in the monitoring room. The door opened, and someone strode in.
Zhang Yingying turned her head curiously. The newcomer wore a neatly pressed sky-blue uniform without any rank insignia. He stood out among the Deep Space Gray Aerospace Army uniforms.
Lieutenant Colonel Lu turned and frowned slightly, but quickly forced a smile. Stepping forward, he greeted him:
"Assistant Yan. How's the search going?"