White is in a stupor.
He is lost in himself. At least that is what it looked like to the spectators. Sam just brushed on the point of attack with his palm and blew some air on it.
"It is very itchy. Are you done?"
"How did you do it?" White asked.
"It seems like you understood what I was doing. I didn't do much. You should have already guessed."
"That should be impossible. Unless you are a good, there is no way you can command energy around you to have enough understanding of it."
"Why do I need to command the energy? I can just see it and calculate it. What is the point of having a brain if you need cultivation level to achieve everything."
Sam's words stunned everyone into silence.
Even though they knew that Sam didn't mean to address them, it felt like he was calling out all of them. Including the Dean. After all, everyone there is obsessed with the cultivation levels which is often their whole identity.
