As the connection grew stronger and more pronounced,
Vaguely,
An unfamiliar figure abruptly appeared before Jiang Hui's eyes.
The figure stood with their eyes on the horizon, standing alone in their uniqueness.
It was an old man, wearing a patched robe whose white had faded from many a wash. Though hunched over, he possessed an overwhelming aura capable of piercing the heavens and soaring straight into the clouds—a hyperbole of grandiosity.
However, the age and fatigue visible on his face made him appear haggard and weary, as though he hadn't slept for days. His eyes were bloodshot, and his expression was one of immense fatigue….
What struck Jiang Hui the most, however, were the old man's hands.
Under his divine sense, they held not a single callus, and showed no signs of aging. His fingers were long and pale as jade, as though they were immaculately carved from the finest amber agate, softer than even a newborn's skin.
