If the way to break this illusion is still an oil lamp, then the match that came from nowhere in his hand may be the last straw.
If the match got wet with water... then Julian Tao would be no different from cutting off the life-saving straw himself.
The water was already up to his thighs, and the cold touch was like a life-threatening poisonous snake, spiraling up the body, looking for a fatal weakness and biting hard.
Julian Tao couldn't care about anything else at this time. He grabbed the match and raised it high with one hand, and beat the glass above his head crazily with the other hand.
But the glass looked fragile, but Julian Tao's hand was red from the smash, and there were no cracks on it.
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