Qin Yang stood atop the peak, his gaze profound as he looked into the distance below. The gale at the summit whipped his robes until they snapped loudly. Looking down upon the world, it seemed as though everything lay within his eyes.
The classic image of an exalted master.
In truth, after taking a few looks, Qin Yang gave up.
He could see shit. Below, clouds and mist had gathered into a sea, thousands of zhang thick. Coupled with the unpredictable surging of spiritual energy, if he did not use his power or cast an eye technique, he could not see a thing beneath the mountain.
If he used his power, then to those low-level cultivators, he would be nothing more than a giant humanoid ball of light.
Back when he had still been weak as a chick, whenever he encountered some expert passing by, so long as that person used their power, all he saw was either a huge ball of light or a streak of divine radiance cutting through the air.
Back then, he had thought experts were simply like that.
Only after his own strength had reached this level did he understand that it was because he had been too weak. His eyes simply could not distinguish the details, much like how ordinary people saw sunlight as white.
Yet with his current strength, if he cast an eye technique and looked at the sun, what he would see would be a nuclear explosion of colors. The amount of information contained within it was something even the Thinking Art could not let him bear in an instant.
That was why there had always been a straightforward method of judgment passed down.
When low-level cultivators saw an expert and could not see any divine light or sense any fluctuation