Time would not stagnate for any person or thing. It was like an ever-flowing river, silently carrying everything away and changing everything in its path.
A full year had passed since the Demonic Flame Space closed. The sliver of hope held by the Five Elements Sect disciples who had once held high hopes for Lin Ming had gradually begun to fade.
A year was neither particularly long nor particularly short. Yet for those who waited, every day was torment and every night was agony.
At first, some people still discussed it in private, saying that the Sect Master was blessed by fate and would surely return safely.
Every early morning, someone would stand before the mountain gate, gazing toward the distant horizon and hoping that familiar figure would suddenly appear.
Others would go to the sect's ancestral hall and light an incense stick for Lin Ming, praying for the heavens to protect him.
However, as the days passed and no news ever came from the Demonic Flame Space, those hopes, expectations, and prayers faded away bit by bit like sand scattered by the wind.
Now that a year had passed, few in the Five Elements Sect mentioned Lin Ming's name anymore. It was not that they did not want to mention him, but that they did not dare. They feared that once they did, they would remember the man who had filled them with hope, only to ultimately disappoint them.
Ya Fei and the others could do nothing about this situation.
How could they not be anxious? How could they not miss him? How could they not wish for Lin Ming to suddenly appear before them?
Yet there was nothing they could do. All they could do was wait, guard this sect, and wait for that person to return, though