Void Cultivation-Chapter 192- Projection

When Grey reappeared once more, he was already standing directly in front of the old man.

The old man shrieked in terror and instinctively tried to retreat, but Grey’s hand suddenly shot forward in a short, precise jab. That jabbing motion looked almost sluggish, as though it carried no power at all. It was simple, plain, and unremarkable to the eye.

Yet that very same jab was what had driven the young woman to flee without hesitation.

And because Grey was not currently in his Special Brilliance form, the might hidden behind that strike appeared incomprehensibly weak, so weak that an ordinary cultivator might have laughed at it.

The old man, however, did not laugh.

The instant Grey’s finger moved, a chill ran down his spine. Every instinct he possessed screamed the same warning.

That jab could end his life.

His pupils shrank as he retreated even faster, forcefully burning his spirit power to widen the distance between them. But Grey’s strike was too sudden, too clean. There was no excess movement, no wasted force, and no possible angle of evasion.

Just as the jab was about to land, a dark screen of light abruptly manifested in front of the old man.

A deafening bang rang out.

Immediately afterward, the sound of countless shards of glass shattering echoed through the air. Cracks spiderwebbed across the dark screen before it exploded into fragments that scattered in every direction.

The old man staggered backward violently.

Blood trickled from the corner of his lips as his body trembled. Even though the defensive screen had blocked the attack, Grey’s jab had not stopped. The force behind it pierced straight through the barrier and struck him regardless.

Fortunately, for him, the moment the screen shattered, the rebounding force sent his body flying even farther away from Grey. Using that precious moment, the old man forcefully stabilized himself midair, rapidly forming a series of hand seals before slamming his palm against his own chest.

Instantly, his speed erupted.

In a single breath, he crossed more than a thousand feet.

But the cost was severe.

As his body accelerated unnaturally, his face drained of all color as more wrinkles covered his aged and dull face. He coughed violently, spewing a mouthful of blood that was instantly torn apart by the sheer speed of his movement, dispersing into a fine crimson mist behind him.

While retreating, the old man glanced back. What he saw made his heart nearly stop. Grey’s frail-looking figure was slowly fading away, his form dissolving into the surroundings as though he were vanishing from existence itself.

At that sight, terror flooded the old man’s heart.

"Damn it...!" he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice shaking. "Even after all my preparations... even after disguising myself so thoroughly... he still found me. I even thought he was dead!"

Fear and disbelief warred within his eyes. Although Grey’s current appearance was different from the man he remembered, that suffocating aura of death, the same one that accompanied him wherever he appeared, made recognition instantaneous. There was no doubt. Grey had come for his life.

"His power... it’s grown again," the old man said in a low, trembling voice. "Did he break through to the Foundation Establishment Realm?"

His expression darkened.

"If that’s the case... then I’ll have no choice."

A trace of ruthless resolve surfaced in his pupils.

"I’ll have to ask for that old man’s help."

A moment later, a conch shell appeared in his hand.

The shell shimmered with multiple colors, but what truly stood out was the dense black fog that poured from it the instant it emerged. The fog coiled around his hand like living smoke, completely engulfing it.

The old man gritted his teeth.

Without hesitation, he crushed the conch shell.

Crack!

The shell shattered into fragments, and the black fog exploded outward before violently surging back and imprinting itself onto his hand.

When the fog dissipated, a grotesque totem had formed.

It depicted a strange creature with two mouths and seven eyes, its shape twisted and unnatural. The totem emitted a dark, sinister glint as it embedded itself into his flesh.

Agony assaulted the old man’s senses.

His speed faltered for a brief instant as his body convulsed from the pain.

But even that single second was fatal. Because Grey had already caught up.

His hand clenched into a fist, and without the slightest hesitation, he punched forward.

Grey’s fist shot forward.

Before it could land, the surrounding space collapsed inward.

Instead of the sensation of flesh yielding beneath his strike, Grey felt as though his punch had slammed into an ancient mountain, one that had existed long before spirit power was ever cultivated.

The impact sent a dull, suffocating pressure rippling outward.

Grey’s eyes narrowed.

Stopping his fist was a hand.

It was not fully formed, only an outline at first, emerging slowly from the grotesque totem branded onto the old man’s palm. As that hand appeared, the surrounding air thickened, becoming heavy and stagnant, as if the world itself was being forced to bow.

The old man’s body froze.

His breathing became ragged, and blood seeped from his nose as his cultivation instinctively suppressed itself. He did not dare move, not even a fraction.

Though everything seemed to take several breaths, less than two seconds had passed since the conch shell shattered.

In the time it took to blink, the hand fully materialized. Then the arm. Then the body.

A middle-aged man clad in gray robes stepped out from the darkness of the totem as though emerging from another world entirely. His feet touched nothing, yet the instant he appeared, the space around him trembled faintly, unable to fully endure his presence.

The oppressive pressure multiplied.

Cultivators within miles would have felt their spirit power slow, as though weighed down by an invisible force. Even the flow of wind came to a halt, frozen in silent submission.

The man’s expression was one of absolute indifference. Not arrogance. Not hostility.

Just the detached gaze of a being who no longer regarded those below him as worthy of emotion.

Although he did not actively release his aura, the power leaking from his form alone dwarfed that of the young woman. It surged past cultivators with three balls of Spirit Fire as though they were nothing more than flickering candles in the face of pure moonlight. Or it could be compared to the blinding radiance of the sun compared to the very distant stars in the sky.

Grey’s eyes darkened. This man possessed at least four balls of Spirit Fire. No, more terrifying than that was the quality of his presence.

Grey immediately understood that even without activating his Special Brilliance form, this man had power capable of contending with experts at the peak of the Foundation Establishment Realm.

The old man finally exhaled, as if his soul had narrowly escaped destruction.

However...

Grey noticed it.

The gray-robed man’s figure flickered ever so slightly after blocking his punch. His edges blurred, and his form dimmed for a brief moment, like a reflection disturbed by ripples.

A cold realization settled into Grey’s mind.

This overwhelming existence... was merely a projection.