The guarding Law Enforcement Hall disciple returned once more, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor.
Shen Fan silently turned around and slipped away from that dark, damp place without a sound.
That night was an endless torment and struggle for him.
When Shen Fan finally finished his guard duty and dragged his exhausted body out of the Law Enforcement Hall,
what met his eyes was the bleak sight of Old Man Duan being carried slowly out of the dungeon.
After leaving the Law Enforcement Hall, Shen Fan returned to the Waste Elixir Chamber in a daze, his steps unsteady.
Knock, knock, knock—!
Yet before he could recover from the grief of Old Man Duan's suicide,
a series of heavy thuds suddenly came from the storage room, especially piercing in the silent Waste Elixir Chamber.
"Something else got thrown down here?"
Shen Fan's heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly rose, opened the little door to the storage room with trembling hands, then bent down and crawled inside.
The next instant, the sight before him left him dumbstruck, as if he had been struck by lightning.
Corpses were piled up like a mountain, giving off a nauseating stench of decay.
Their bodies were covered in wounds, every inch of flesh mangled, as though they had suffered inhuman torture and brutal interrogation.
Some of the corpses were even missing arms and legs, a miserable sight too ghastly to bear looking at.
"Th-this..."
Shen Fan's eyes widened as he stared at everything in disbelief, a powerful fear and unease rising in his heart.
But he quickly noticed that the clothes on these corpses were not the robes of Heavenly Xuan Sect disciples.
Then, at that moment, a familiar face entered his sight.
That old face, furrowed and rough as tree bark,