He wore a grey-white Daoist robe, his brows and eyes exceedingly pale, as if washed by clouds and mist.
Ning Zhuo cast a glance over, his brows faintly knitting.
The feeling Yun Wuji gave him was rather strange. It was the first time the youth had seen this type of Nascent Soul Cultivator.
Yun Wuji's lips were lightly colored, his irises likewise pale; the whole person showed no sharpness, no majesty, not even the usual oppression of a Nascent Soul Cultivator. He stood there like a wisp of cloud-shadow condensed into human shape; if one did not look closely, one would feel he might fade away at any moment.
His sleeves were wide, hanging down past his wrists, and within them there seemed to be an extremely faint white vapour slowly drifting.
At his waist hung a half-transparent Jade Pendant, within which a speck of white mist drifted back and forth.
On his feet, grey-white Traceless Cloud Shoes stepped upon the air as upon level ground, without the slightest sound.
