I'm trapped in a block

Chapter 1286 Free Teleportation

This time, the area he teleported to was no longer a cube.

The instant the thought of teleportation flashed through his mind, it seemed as if a voice whispered in his ear:

"You are free."

Mo Ling instantly forgot all the restrictions.

He had forgotten the process of each previous teleportation, and as if using this ability for the first time, he awkwardly grasped the changing space before him.

After seeing everything clearly, teleportation is no longer a black box operation without understanding its principles, but has become an instinct based on thorough knowledge.

Just like "breathing".

Breathing can be fast or slow, deep or shallow, long or short... The same goes for transmission, it can be done at will.

In the instant when the mind is clear, time seems to stand still.

Everything in the square froze in that instant. The dust floating in the air was frozen in the wind, which itself became a vector that could not move for a moment. The sunlight lingered on the objects it shone on, while the photons that had not yet fallen hung suspended in the infinitely extending void, carrying energy.

It's like a sandbox that was prepared in advance, with everything inside arranged neatly.

Moving, still, vibrant, dead—all existing things have been stripped of their original attributes and transformed into decorations attached to space.

Even time itself has become something that doesn't exist.

Everything uses change to describe time, but in a frozen sandbox, as long as no one moves the things in the sandbox, time does not exist.

Mo Ling seemed to be standing outside the sandbox, his all-encompassing vision gazing upon everything. Space was a box, and everything contained within it was reflected in his eyes.

He reached out his hand, wanting to take something out of the box.

His "hand" was originally cube-shaped, but now he has found the true way to use it.

He doesn't need to adhere to a fixed shape; as long as it's visible, he can take it out...

"Whoo~"

Mo Ling sighed deeply, and he suddenly felt very relaxed.

In the past, he would always be very nervous when teleporting, afraid of hurting or killing something.

Normal living beings, once removed from their current space, will only face death, which is the fundamental reason why teleportation kills.

They live in sandboxes, and their bodies evolve to adapt to the sandbox. Forcibly taking them out is like taking fish from the deep sea directly to the shore or throwing land creatures directly into the abyss. The change in environment will cause the organisms to collapse instantly.

Because of this life-killing power, Mo Ling has always been cautious.

He was grateful for this power, but also afraid of it.

But now that this power has become instinctive, he seems no longer afraid, nor does he hesitate out of worry.

"People are not afraid of their own arms."

Although the strength of the arms is also very strong.

Ancient apes gripped stones with their bare hands and smashed the skulls of heretics; humans in the age of cold weapons picked up swords and pierced the flesh of their own kind; modern humans pull the trigger, bullets fly out, reaping lives...

Humans may revere stones, swords, and firearms, but they will not revere their own hands.

Humanity views all kinds of weapons as the root of war, yet it places its hand on its chest, putting the most dangerous thing next to its most vulnerable part.

Simply because this power can be controlled.

Mo Ling had always regarded teleportation as a weapon, but now he realized that it was just his "hand"... Mo Ling clumsily grasped the flowers in the sandbox.

If it were forcibly pulled out, the flower's roots would rot completely, so Mo Ling slowly covered each of the flower's roots with her "hands".

He used his "hand" to cover the vibrant colors, the delicate petals, and the sturdy branches. As if by magic, with a gentle shake, the beautiful flowers that originally existed in the painting quietly disappeared and fell into Mo Ling's hand, as if they had never existed.

Inside the grand hall, Mo Ling held the flower in her hand. Its roots stretched long down, without a trace of soil. The flower remained vibrant, not withering quickly after being pulled out. Time seemed to stand still at the moment it was pulled out.

Several small trees gathered around, curiously looking at the flowers in Mo Ling's hand.

They seemed to be asking Moring, "Is it dead?"

Mo Ling gently shook her head, placed the flower forward, and with a light touch of her finger, the flower was once again perfectly embedded in the soil.

The flowers are still vibrant...

If it were the previous Mo Ling, he would never have been able to peel away the soil so precisely. He could only use the square teleportation frame to cut through the soil as much as possible and select the parts he wanted.

But now it's different. He truly holds the flower in his "hand." He can feel the hardness of the stem, and when his knuckles occasionally touch the petals, he can feel a soft texture. He can smell the fragrance of the flower and even distinguish the earthy scent within it.

He saw nutrients flowing in the flower's "blood vessels," saw the spread of life, saw every structure of the flower, and saw this fragile life struggling in the sandbox.

It craves sunlight, soil, and water, growing towards a more suitable environment for survival in the sandbox. The wind stirs the petals, and the seeds of life drift away with the breeze.

Mo Ling saw everything that belonged to "flower".

He picked up the flower, smelled it, and then gently put it down. In the instant before time had passed, he placed the flower back into the sandbox.

"It's always been there, so of course it won't die."

From the perspective of the flowers, it has never left the sandbox.

In that brief moment of stagnation, it simply dreamt of going beyond the sandbox...

Mo Ling exhaled the fragrance of the flowers from her mouth and gently lowered her hand.

He stopped staring at the flower and reached his "hand" further away.

His perspective has always been limited, much like the cubic space that confines his existence.

Mo Ling had also thought about it seriously. He could see the light coming into his field of vision from the outside, but why couldn't he perceive the area beyond that? It was as if his eyes were covered.

He couldn't understand it before, but now he does.

"There is a distance between hands."

No matter how far you stretch, you can only reach things within a certain range. Even if a rope is thrown from afar, you can only touch the end of the rope and cannot perceive its entirety. The light that shines into your field of vision, like these ropes, extends into the distance.

To know more, you have to go forward yourself, or—

Make your "hands" longer.

Mo Ling's gaze left the square, passed through the distant high-rises, and stopped at the edge—the farthest point he could "touch."

But this is neither the edge of the "sandbox" nor the edge of the "painting".

The limit he can reach is definitely not a finite "block".

"It can go even further..."

(End of this chapter)