"W-well..."
The old man at the head of the group was so nervous that he stammered for ages without managing a complete sentence.
He couldn't help it. The Sect Master before him might have possessed beauty that could topple cities and kingdoms, but who in the entire sect didn't know about her explosive temper?
"Speak!" Mu Qinglan said coldly, her authority imposing even without anger.
Qian Wantong, master of the Mission Hall, dared not delay any longer. He hurriedly bowed and reported.
"Sect Master! Recently, the rate at which our Inner Sect disciples accept missions has dropped... dropped by a full thirty percent!"
"What?!" Mu Qinglan's heart lurched.
A sect's main source of income was precisely this wide assortment of missions.
Disciples accepted missions either to gather rare natural treasures for the sect or to settle disputes in various cities and regions, collecting protection fees.
Or they hunted Demon Beasts in the mountain ranges, using their materials for artifact refining, talisman crafting, and pill refining.
The resulting magical artifacts, talismans, and pills were then sold outside, sustaining the sect's economic cycle.
If no disciples were willing to accept missions, the sect would completely lose the funds needed to operate within a few years.
By then, other sects wouldn't even need to attack. It would go bankrupt and collapse all on its own.
Looking at the two fellows standing before her with their heads lowered, barely daring to breathe, Mu Qinglan wanted nothing more than to draw her three-meter spear, charge over, and stab each of these useless rice buckets once!
"This is a crisis grave enough to shake the sect's very fortunes! Why are you only reporting it now?!"
"W-well..." Caught by her icy gaze, Qian Wantong shrank his neck in fright and stammered out an explanation.
"R-reporting to the