The very next day, Grey stood at the helm of the magic ship, gazing out across the vast, endless expanse of the ocean. The brisk, salty air whipped around him, brushing against his pale skin. His face, once a blur of indistinct features, was now fully visible—sharp, refined, and undeniably beautiful. His long grey hair flowed loosely in the wind, framing a face that was more captivating than most women, even those who were cultivators. His eyes, a striking shade of grey, held a distant and introspective gaze, as though his mind was occupied with thoughts far beyond the present moment. Yet, if one looked closely enough, they would notice the underlying sharpness, the calculating coldness that lay beneath the surface—an intelligence that could pierce through even the most complex of problems.