In Waite Chirmont's office, Cyril looked at the old man on the verge of losing control, and an illusory book appeared in his eyes.
An invisible ripple spread out immediately afterward, like a pair of gentle hands brushing over him. The turbulent emotions in the old man's heart were instantly soothed.
"Soothing!"
The old man, who had been dazed, suddenly stood motionless. The blue-black discoloration on his skin did not fade, but every inch of skin and every piece of flesh seemed to quiet down, as though falling into slumber.
Seeing this, Cyril took out the Pure White Vision and casually tossed it into the air, where an Invisible Hand held it suspended.
The room instantly dimmed as the Pure White Vision drew in its light.
A few breaths later, rings of warm, clear radiance burst from the Pure White Vision.
Cyril lowered his eyes slightly. He noticed that his shadow seemed to have writhed faintly just now, as though it disliked or could not adjust to this light filled with purifying power.
Under the radiance that purified all things, the blue-black discoloration on the old man's face gradually lightened and faded away. Meanwhile, specks of silvery-white light resembling dawn flickered beneath his skin, seemingly about to separate from his body.
The next second, Cyril caught the hovering Pure White Vision in his hand, and the purifying radiance instantly dispersed.
Cyril looked at the old man, whose blue-black discoloration had mostly faded, then raised a hand and snapped his fingers lightly.
Snap! Drops of translucent liquid tinged with gold and radiating warmth condensed in midair, falling onto the old man like rain.
Once he had finished, he turned to Colin and the others waiting nearby.
"He won't lose control for the time being."
"But if he doesn't receive proper treatment