A faint ripple suddenly stirred in the void, as though a pebble had been quietly dropped into a pool of still water. Ripples spread out in circles, and even space itself trembled lightly like water waves.
Before everyone's eyes, Su Yang's figure silently emerged at the center of the waves, as if he had always been meant to stand there—and as if he had never truly appeared at all.
He wore a moon-white robe, silver hair like a waterfall draped over his shoulders. Silver radiance flowed within his eyes; upon closer inspection, two clusters of dim silver flame seemed to dance deep within his pupils, seizing the soul.
His features were refined and scholarly, yet his expression was utterly indifferent, as though even if heaven and earth shattered and the sun and moon decayed, not a single ripple could arise upon his face—his heart-lake bore no trace, an ancient well remained unruffled, making his depths impossible to fathom.
Sect Master Tongtian immediately strode forward and gave a deep bow. "Tongtian pays respects to the Saint!"
Su Yang raised a brow slightly, the corners of his lips curling faintly. "Fellow cultivator, you are also a Saint of the Primordial Chaos. Why cling to such worldly formalities? Su Yang cannot accept this." Though his words were humble, his body remained unmoving, as steady as a mountain.
"Saint, you shame this humble one! In the Saint's eyes, how could this humble one's meager cultivation possibly enter your sight? Saint, please do not mock Tongtian." A chill ran through Tongtian's heart—he could clearly perceive that Su Yang's aura was now hidden and formless. On the surface, he was calm as a mirror, but within seemed to surge undercurrents and lurk raging waves, perilous beyond description.
It was precisely because of this that he grew