Two eyes that contained — not metaphorically, not in the poetic approximation of someone reaching for imagery — the specific, literal quality of things that had looked at the sun and the moon long enough and from a sufficient proximity to have retained some of what they had seen. At this moment, those eyes were directed at Wang Chen with the naked, unguarded quality of shock that even the divine aura could not manage into a more composed presentation.
Shock.
The figure's gaze moved from Wang Chen to the sky above — to whatever the sky contained, or whatever the refined pill's energy had inscribed in the sky during the process, or whatever was visible up there to eyes that could look at the sun and find it worth looking at.
The expression on the extraordinarily handsome face was the specific, absolute quality of someone who has encountered something that has exceeded the ceiling of what they believed the ceiling was.
