A short while later, Kyrian was once again walking through the bustling streets of the Sky Caravan. The Celestial Descent Festival remained just as lively as before, the contagious energy of the crowd filling the air like an endless melody.
Merchants loudly advertised rare treasures, displaying their wares in stalls decorated with colorful banners. Alchemists showcased freshly refined pills inside crystal vials, their surfaces gleaming with a seductive radiance.
Blacksmiths presented gleaming spiritual weapons, their blades capturing the sunlight and reflecting it in hypnotic patterns. Cultivators chatted excitedly about the results of the morning's competitions, some celebrating victories while others analyzed their defeats.
Kyrian passed by all of them like a shadow, his presence subtle yet impossible to ignore. A few glances turned toward him, recognizing the violet-eyed youth, but no one dared approach him.
