The pressure was so intense that it distorted the vision of most people. The air trembled as though under extreme heat, shapes became blurred, and colors blended together.
But Kyrian's eyes... reacted. An invisible layer of energy formed around his pupils, shielding them from the pressure.
His eyes dispersed that pressure as they always did, nullifying its effect on his perception. Kyrian felt slightly better, and the image of the man atop the tower became crystal clear to him.
He appeared to be a middle-aged man, or perhaps much older, his outward appearance failing to reflect his true age.
Long black hair streaked with silver, as though time itself had painted strands of light into the darkness, as though each silver strand represented a century of life.
He wore immaculate white robes embroidered with cloud and dragon patterns, every detail a work of spiritual art, every thread woven with Qi.
