Racing Against Time, No Time for Formalities

Seven Kill Hall, outside the main hall.

Dusk hung heavy, and the mountain wind carried a desolate chill.

Yan Fentian stood with his hands behind his back on the platform before the hall, his cold gaze sweeping over the kneeling crowd below.

Among them were stewards who handled the sect's mundane affairs and had toiled for half their lives.

There were also white-haired elders who had guarded the Sect Gate for centuries.

At this moment, every one of them knelt on the ground, their shoulders trembling faintly.

They had all once received the Grand Elder's care, and Yan Fentian had naturally placed them on his purge list.

"Ever since Yan took charge of Seven Kill Hall, the Grand Elder has repeatedly urged me to discipline the sect and cut out its festering maladies."

Yan Fentian sneered, his words dripping with mocking sarcasm.

"Fine. Today, I shall grant him his wish!"

He suddenly raised a hand and pointed below the platform, his eyes filled with viciousness.

"You old fools, relying on a few scraps of seniority and kissing the Grand Elder's stinking feet, dared to point fingers at me!"

"Now, I will cleanse the sect on the Grand Elder's behalf!"

"Anyone who has received his favor and colluded with him will be expelled from the sect, never to set foot inside again for all eternity!"

As soon as his words fell, his trusted followers below the platform immediately echoed him in unison.

Among the kneeling crowd, someone could not help bracing himself on his knees and raising his head.

"Hall Master, show mercy! This old man has served Seven Kill Hall for eight hundred years and has never harbored divided loyalties!"

Before the words had even faded, a branch hall master surnamed Sun, who had long been waiting at the side