The artist's brushwork was exquisitely meticulous; the young woman's spirit and appearance vividly leaped off the paper.
"Feng seems to have thought everything through quite thoroughly..."
Zhao Douan was surprised, and suddenly a thought struck him:
"With a portrait and a name, I wonder if the Magic Artifact could be effective."
He reached into his garment and pulled out a small silver mirror, roughly the size of half a palm, flipping it to reveal the engraved words "Fengyue Treasure Mirror" on the back.
Silently in his mind, he sketched Feng Lianlian's features and chanted her name.
Gradually, ripples began to form on the surface of the mirror.
At first, it was blurry, but just as Zhao Douan was about to give up, a scene slowly emerged.
It was a dimly lit room resembling a firewood shed.
On the floor lay a woman, bound with hemp ropes, dressed and looking remarkably similar to the one in the portrait.
"It actually works..."
