BLINDING TOWN

The estate was a masterpiece of luxury, a vast land adorned with intricate gardens, golden pillars, and a towering mansion that could rival a palace. Yet, despite its grandeur, the most striking sight was not the estate itself, but the simple-looking young man standing before a still pond, his hands clasped behind his back.

There was nothing extraordinary about him at first glance—his posture was relaxed, his expression indifferent, and his clothes plain. More notably, not a single trace of aura emanated from his body. He was an enigma, a ghost among titans.

The gentle rustling of a nearby tree harmonized with the soft whispers of the wind, creating an atmosphere of utter tranquility. The young man, however, did not seem to notice. He merely stared into his own reflection on the pond, his gaze void of emotion.

Then—a presence.