All the Crimson Flame Sect disciples guarding the mountain gate wore plain white mourning clothes, with clean white hemp cloth wrapped around their heads. Their faces were grief-stricken as they stood with their heads bowed.
Seeing this, Li Xing reported to Su Fei in a low voice.
"Chiliarch Su, the Crimson Flame Sect's mountain gate used to be fairly heavily guarded. This is the first time I've seen it looking so desolate."
Su Fei nodded slightly, his expression calm, and walked through the mountain gate.
The group climbed the mountain path paved with crimson stone. Every Crimson Flame Sect disciple they saw along the way, regardless of cultivation or rank, wore hemp mourning clothes. Some stood silently with their heads lowered. A gray-white pall of sorrow shrouded the entire sect, so oppressive that it left them struggling to breathe.
There were none of the usual shouts of training among the mountains.
Continuing straight ahead, they soon reached the Crimson Flame Sect's main hall.
The hall's main doors stood open. Inside, it was somber and gloomy, without a single lamp lit, and the light was dim.
On the raised platform at the very center of the hall rested a pitch-black nanmu coffin. Simple winding branch patterns were carved into its sides, and its lid fitted tightly without a gap.
An incense burner and offerings of fruit stood before the coffin. Three white incense sticks burned quietly, their white smoke curling upward and giving off a faint scent of incense ash.
Dozens of Crimson Flame Sect elders, core disciples, and others in mourning clothes knelt in orderly rows on either side of the coffin. No one spoke, and the atmosphere was deathly still and heavy.
Sensing outsiders entering the hall, an elderly man with graying hair and an aged face slowly rose.