The old man had a ruddy complexion, white temples, frosty eyebrows, and snowy hair. His frame was large and his presence commanding. As he rose to greet An Jing, An Jing felt waves of overwhelming pressure wash over him.
Among the Qi Refining cultivators of antiquity, the stronger they were, the more profound and tranquil their aura became. They would merge seamlessly with the heavens and earth, much like a person existing within the vastness of the sky without ever feeling out of place.
Martial Artists, however, were different. They moved like dragons and stood like mountains; their anger could trigger earthquakes, their sorrow could topple the heavens. Born carrying a Divine Destiny and destined to return to the abyss upon death, they were essentially miniature worlds walking the earth. Unless they deliberately suppressed their aura, their "presence" would inevitably influence wherever they went.
Chapter 441