Theron found that he could hardly breathe.
It wasn't a matter of will. In front of absolute power, he had long learned that this was worthless. He had had all the will in the world to save his family that day, but it hadn't meant anything at all.
In the end, he had had no choice but to rely on the mercy of a man he hated with every fiber of his being just to survive to this day.
Today, it was the second time he had had this feeling. He couldn't even begin to sense a cultivation; he just felt an endless well, unfathomable and deep. The difference was back then he hardly had any cultivation at all. Maybe this... was more impressive than even that had been.
The man sat behind a large desk, the lights of the room were deep. Despite his seated posture being a bit lazy, Theron could feel the same sort of willowy sturdiness he had felt from Sigil.
