Inside the dilapidated house, the light was dim.
As Jiang Yuechu stepped into the dwelling once more, several of Qin Zhisui's disciples had gathered here in addition to her.
Several figures stood scattered about, nearly filling the already cramped little room.
The room was silent.
Everyone's gaze rested on the bed against the wall.
Calling it a bed was generous; it was really just a few wooden planks pieced together.
A layer of somewhat damp straw had been laid over it, topped with a thin quilt.
At this moment, Qin Zhisui lay quietly upon it.
His eyes were tightly shut, his brows deeply furrowed, and his breathing weak to the utmost extreme.
Seeing the old man in such a state, everyone fell silent.
A moment later.
Senior Brother Chu, wearing a bamboo hat, slowly rose to his feet.
He gently withdrew the fingers resting on Qin Zhisui's wrist and carefully placed the old man's arm back beneath the quilt.
Then he turned around, looked at the crowd whose faces were full of expectation, and sighed softly.
In the end, he helplessly shook his head at them.
"I can't detect any problem either..."
"Whew..."
Upon hearing this.
A long chorus of sighs rose within the room.
Before this.
Every disciple had exhausted every means at their disposal and racked their brains, hoping to uncover exactly what symptoms the old man suffered from.
Though nearly everyone present was a genuine Myriad-Forms Heaven Realm cultivator, with insight and experience both incomparably keen and profound.
Yet even after the final disciple had finished examining him.
They still had not found anything amiss.
If they could not find the problem...
Then they had no way to begin.
Chu Tiange silently swept his gaze around the room, taking in every expression on his fellow disciples' faces.