Cultivators hailing from a specific Heaven would invariably carry a distinct aura, a unique "flavor" imprinted upon their very origin by the environment in which they cultivated.
His mind, now a vast and silent spiritual sea, began to isolate several of these lingering signatures.
Some were dull, their essence unstable and chaotic, like a star collapsing in on itself. Others, however, were immensely firm, their residual pressure as unshakeable and dense as the core of a galaxy.
'What's going on?' he wondered, his brow furrowing in silent contemplation.
Could these auras be from the higher-ranked Heavens?
Cain dismissed the thought almost immediately.
The higher Heavens, like the 1st or 2nd, possessed resources and inheritances that made a place like this, despite its mystery, almost certainly beneath their notice. Their prideful geniuses would have their own, far more exclusive, cosmic playgrounds.
Lower Heavens, then?
Another, even lower, possibility.
