Time flies like a fleeting horse, and in the blink of an eye, several years have passed.
On this day, within the Assembly Hall on the top level of Piaomiao Peak, the atmosphere was solemn.
The senior cultivators of the Qinghua Sect were already seated, Master Lin Xian stroked his long beard, occasionally glancing towards the main seat.
Li Weiyang sat upright, his fingers lightly tapping the table, seemingly lost in thought.
Wu Guang and Li Yang sat side by side, both wearing brocade robes, the pressure of Fake Pill Cultivators faintly discernible.
Everyone in the hall had arrived, except the main seat was still empty—Sect Leader Hua Taixuan was delayed.
"Why is the Sect Leader late today?"
Li Weiyang asked softly, with a hint of doubt in his tone.
In past sect meetings, Hua Taixuan was always the first to arrive.
Chen Sheng smiled slightly:
"Perhaps something good is about to happen."
As soon as he finished speaking, a whistling sound came from outside the hall.
"Whoosh—"
