Meng Jueyan thought deeply about the elder, about his power and identity.
But nothing else about him fit the profile of a junior or a rouge cultivator.
His poise. His precision. His methods.
Even the obscure technique he'd used—causing her attackers to freeze right as they lunged—was something she'd never seen before. It had to be some secret illusory or restraining skill above their common Locking Eye Technique.
That alone placed him far above ordinary disciples.
And then there was the way he had subdued the red-eyed woman.
Clean, efficient, and silent.
There was no wasted movement. No hesitation. Just a few taps and the woman had collapsed, twitching like a puppet with its strings cut.
'He's suppressing his cultivation, definitely,' she thought. 'Must be to remain hidden. Someone like him wouldn't walk around showing his strength.'
And he knew of Elder Wei—knew about internal sect matters, enough to reference them with ease. That implied not only authority, but position.
