Uyon felt slack. It wasn't the same slackness from weakness he felt before, but instead like he was witnessing a world that didn't make any sense.
That was a Chosen. That was a behemoth of a talent—one who had a cultivation even higher than Theron's own, one who had been so powerful even a Saint like Uyon felt completely helpless against him.
The Chosen were like monsters in vaguely humanoid skin, existences that touched upon Resonances and talents that shouldn't have existed in the world.
Yet, Theron not only called one of them weak, he had casually proven it in the next instant of time… because he had never lied.
Sure, if it had been before he went on his retreat, Inshwelu would have likely been an enemy he couldn't defeat. But after grasping Profound Truth, Theron realized just how little actual cultivation mattered…
