After carefully observing for more than half an hour, Ding Huan finally confirmed that he had not attracted the attention of the owner of this space.
If an outsider enters his space, he would definitely notice it immediately and sense it out.
Up until now, he hadn't sensed anything unusual, which could only mean one thing: the owner of this space did not have time to care about him.
In what situation would the owner not have time to care about someone entering their space?
Only if the owner had lost consciousness or was in deep seclusion.
Ding Huan leaned towards the possibility that the owner had lost consciousness.
As for the space owner having perished, Ding Huan thought it was impossible.
If the owner of this space had truly perished, the space would not be full of vitality but rather dead silence.
Not only he, but everyone here could feel it.
Even with this intuitive judgment, Ding Huan still tried to calculate it, but he couldn't deduce anything in this space.
