The young man's gaze swept slowly across the gathered crowd.
In that instant, every cultivator felt as though they had been stripped naked and thrown into a frozen wilderness, their secrets, intentions, and weaknesses laid bare beneath an unforgiving sky. It was a gaze that did not merely look—it weighed, measured, and judged.
For Wang Chen, the sensation was particularly intense.
His scalp prickled, and his heart skipped a beat as instinct screamed at him to run. Deep within, he silently prayed that his concealment, his fate-erasing techniques, and the veil of Non-Existence would hold.
Please… just don't notice me.
After what felt like an eternity—but was in truth only a few breaths—the young man finally withdrew his gaze. The invisible pressure receded, allowing everyone to breathe again, though no one dared do so loudly.
He cleared his throat.
