The largest and perhaps most legendary Pill Convention in history had finally drawn to a close, but its influence could not possibly vanish at once. Those with an interest still kept a close watch on everything in Holy Pill City.
Ling Haonan, the Spirit Clan's Grand Elder, watched everything unfold from afar with an exceedingly calm exterior. His gaunt body, like the gnarled branches of an old tree, sank deep into a sandalwood chair. The knuckles resting on its armrests were bluish-white, while his eyes beneath layered, wrinkled lids were as still as ancient wells. The thunderous cheers from the distant plaza pierced the clouds and crashed against his ears. With his immense strength, every development during the Pill Convention had been within his sight, yet in the end, he had done nothing.
After the official results of the Pill Convention were announced and Xiao Yan formally claimed the championship, a trace of sorrow finally surfaced in Ling Haonan's previously placid eyes. The inky medicinal brew in his teacup had long since gone cold, yet after the result was decided, he did not take another sip.
Even when intense pain flared in his forehead, he did not move in the slightest, merely sitting there in silence.
"Does Heaven truly refuse to bless my Spirit Clan...?"
The sigh that escaped his throat carried the rotten stench of blood. When this Dou Sheng expert rose to his feet, the slanting sunset beyond the window stretched his shadow long and twisted, like an old snake barely clinging to life.
Ling Haonan was, after all, no feeble old man in his twilight years. In the first half of his life, his hands had been stained with endless blood, and he had been a notorious Spirit Clan expert. He gazed at the lingering pill-lightning clouds