Deep within the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect stood a quiet Stone Pavilion at the heart of a lake.
The autumn lotus flowers had withered away. Dead leaves and dried stalks filled the pond, steeping it in bleak stillness.
Ning Fengzhi sat alone in the Stone Pavilion, dressed in a plain robe. His once-dark hair had turned snow-white, silver strands falling over his shoulders. Thin and solitary, he gazed at the ruined pond, his eyes heavy with weariness and the passage of years.
The warm, refined master of a great sect was gone. Ten years had worn away his former grace. His vitality was failing, his blood and strength spent, like a lamp guttering on its last drop of oil.
A voice he knew all too well, though he had not heard it in years, rang out coldly beyond the pavilion. "Teacher. I trust you've been well."
Ning Fengzhi went rigid. He did not move. Even his breath stopped.
Before he could recover, four figures strode into the quiet Stone Pavilion and seated themselves with calm assurance, their presence formidable.
Qian Renxue swept an indifferent gaze over him. Her cool words struck straight at the heart of the matter. "The Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, the foremost support sect under heaven. How impressive."
"After ten years, the strongest person in your sect is only a level eighty-nine Soul Douluo. An empty reputation, nothing more."
Qian Renxue fixed her eyes on Ning Fengzhi. "And then there's you, Teacher."
"After decades of cultivation, you're still stuck at the level seventy-nine bottleneck. You haven't advanced half a step."
"Your blood and vitality are nearly exhausted. Your life is ebbing away. In three years at most, your time will run out, and the last oil in your lamp will burn dry."
Ning Fengzhi slowly