Three days later, at the mountain gate of the Tianbao Supreme Sect.
The entire sect was shrouded in a solemn, desolate atmosphere.
On the mountain gate plaza, Sect Leader Jiang Lishan stood at the head, with the three Grandmasters Han Guxi, Ke Tianzong, and Su Muyun already present.
Farther away, many elders of the inner peaks and True Disciples stood silently as well. The crowd was a sea of black, yet not a sound could be heard.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on the northwestern horizon.
When the figures of several Golden Feather Eagles finally appeared in the sky and slowly descended onto the plaza.
Chen Qing was the first to leap down from an eagle's back. Then, with utmost care, he carried Luo Zhixian's body down.
Luo Zhixian's face was peaceful. Though his gray robe was worn and stained with blood, Chen Qing had carefully arranged it, and his long hair had been neatly combed.
Jiang Lishan stepped forward.
The Tianbao Supreme Sect Leader had always been steady as a mountain, his joy and anger never shown upon his face. Yet as he looked at Luo Zhixian's body now, the muscles in his face twitched faintly, and complicated emotions surfaced in his eyes.
He let out a long sigh. "Senior Brother Luo... how did it come to this?"
Han Guxi stepped forward. The white-haired old man gazed deeply at Luo Zhixian, then shook his head and muttered, "A genius of the Spear Dao, blessed by heaven... yet he fell here, fell to the slaughter of his own sect brothers... tragic, lamentable!"
Ke Tianzong's expression was grave. His gaze swept over Luo Zhixian's body, lingering especially on the savage wound across his chest and abdomen. His brows drew tightly together as he said in a low voice, "That traitor Li Qingyu