Ao Jianlie pushed open the heavy stone doors, which gave a low, muffled rumble.
Lin Fan's cave mansion was as simple and unadorned as before. Bluestone paved the ground, stone pillars stood tall, and there were no superfluous decorations. It resembled an ordinary household residence, without the slightest trace of a cultivator's lavishness.
Yet this time, as Ao Jianlie stepped inside, he keenly sensed an atmosphere utterly different from before—the entire cave mansion had become unnaturally quiet, so quiet that it made his chest feel stifled, as though he were about to suffocate.
He crossed the threshold and passed through the spacious courtyard.
Several spiritual roots had originally been planted in the courtyard, but they had now withered into desolation. Their leaves were no longer lush and emerald-green, instead taking on a dull, withered yellow.
Ao Jianlie stopped, his expression complicated as he gazed at those dying spiritual plants.
If he remembered correctly, his sister Ao Mingyue had planted these spiritual roots herself. Back then, their branches and leaves had flourished, their blossoms fragrant and refreshing. His sister had once joked that when the spiritual roots flowered and bore fruit, she would give him the sweetest spiritual fruit.
But now, the people were gone, the halls stood empty; things remained, yet all had changed.
Just as he was lost in thought, a clear voice suddenly came from behind him.
"These are spiritual flowers your sister planted with her own hands." The voice was low and calm, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible wistfulness.
"Now that no one tends to them, they have become like this."
Lin Fan slowly emerged from the secret chamber. Dressed in azure robes, he stood tall and straight as a pine. His features were sharply defined, and there was an aloof, otherworldly bearing between his brows. Those