Li Yunzhou opened his eyes, his head groggy as though someone had hammered it.
He stared at the carved beam above his bed, dazed for a good while before remembering who he was and where he was.
Last night... his wife had brought him a bowl of soup...
And then...
His memory cut off there.
He abruptly sat up and looked down at himself... his clothes were intact, and there were no injuries on his body.
But when he tried to circulate his cultivation, his expression instantly changed.
His Immortal Essence... he could no longer sense it.
Li Yunzhou's eyes widened. There had been something wrong with that soup!
"Shen Qinghuan-!!!"
He roared and rushed out of his room.
The courtyard was empty, without a single person in sight.
Li Yunzhou froze for a moment, then dashed outside.
The farther he ran, the more something felt wrong.
It was too quiet.
At this hour, disciples usually came and went along the mountain paths in twos and threes, but now he could not see so much as a ghost's shadow.
He quickened his pace and headed straight for the sect's main hall.
From afar, he saw a dense mass of people kneeling in the square.
Li Yunzhou's heart lurched.
Had something happened?
He charged into the crowd and found every disciple down on one knee, facing the same direction.
He grabbed the nearest disciple by the shoulder. "What's going on?!"
The disciple looked up at him with a complicated gaze, seeming about to speak but stopping short, then lowered his head again without a word.
Li Yunzhou froze.
He tried another disciple, only to get the same response.
The way those disciples looked at him, how should he put it... was like looking at someone pitiful.
A bad premonition welled up