When the Lips Are Gone, the Teeth Feel the Cold! Qian Renxue Must Die!

Ning Fengzhi and Gu Rong followed the Fourth Elder into the depths of the Clear Sky Sect.

Mountain wind swept ashes from burned paper offerings upward through the cracks between the stone steps.

The air was thick with the bitter, scorched smell of incense and candles burned too long, making their throats tighten.

Disciples on both sides wore mourning clothes and hemp headbands, standing with lowered heads in silence.

There was only the sound of the wind, along with the occasional stifled sob.

Ning Fengzhi's heart sank bit by bit. The bluestone slabs beneath his feet felt like blocks of ice, freezing his marrow to the bone.

This was the number one sect under heaven.

The once-dominant sect that could make the entire Douluo Continent tremble with a single swing of the Clear Sky Hammer.

Now, it looked like a massive graveyard devoid of life.

The Fourth Elder walked ahead, his steps growing slower and slower, as though his calves had been filled with lead.

At last, he stopped before a side hall.

A strip of coarse white cloth hung above the doorway, fluttering wildly in the mountain wind.

The Fourth Elder turned around, his face ashen to the extreme.

His lips moved several times, but in the end, he merely let out a heavy sigh and raised a hand to push open the hall doors.

"Creak—"

The dull sound of the opening doors carried far through the deathly silent back mountain.

The instant Ning Fengzhi stepped inside, his feet seemed to be nailed firmly to the ground.

Before his eyes—

A black coffin.

Its lacquer was fresh, glossy and pitch-black, reflecting the ghastly white candlelight within the hall with a heavy aura of death.

An incense burner stood before the coffin. Thin wisps of smoke climbed upward, only to