Although his expression remained stern and cold, Grey could no longer sense the instinctive chill that had seized him while speaking to the old man. It was as though the person standing before him had transformed into someone entirely different.
The aura surrounding the middle-aged man had become strangely elusive and difficult to grasp. When Grey looked at him, he felt as though he was staring at an empty portrait hanging on a wall—something that existed and yet did not exist at the same time. The man's figure appeared blurry in his mind, and even his cultivation, which Grey subconsciously tried to examine, seemed shrouded in an impenetrable haze.
It was as if his very existence had become detached from reality.
As though sensing where Grey's thoughts were headed, the stern expression on the middle-aged man's face deepened.
"That's a very cautious habit of yours," he said calmly. "But don't try to peer into everyone's cultivation."
