Chen Ping stood in front of the door.
His purple eyes swept over the complex sealing runes, his gaze calm as if he were looking at a few worthless scraps of paper.
He hadn’t studied those restrictions, had no methods to deduce or break them, and hadn’t used any techniques.
He was just a gesture.
He reached out and grasped the door lock.
The door lock was forged from ten-thousand-year-old cold iron, with a thumb-sized core rune engraved on its body—the control hub for seven layers of sealing.
The lock was icy cold, glinting with a ghostly blue gleam in the darkness.
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