Mo Huyan didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she studied him again—this time with a far more deliberate, reassessing gaze. It was as though she were peeling away layers, trying to reconcile what she saw with what she knew.
The cultivator standing before her was, by all conventional measures, nothing more than a Foundation-Building nobody. Talented, yes. Abnormally so. But still far too young, far too early in his path, to be entangled with concepts like reincarnation, soul cycles, and the fundamental mechanisms that governed existence itself.
At his stage, he should have been worrying about which laws to begin comprehending. Which path to walk. Which sect genius to provoke—or which junior sister to chase.
These were matters that swallowed emperors and shattered immortals.
They did not belong to someone of his cultivation.
And yet.
