Around the hut where Ling Fa's body had been discovered, everything felt frozen—as if time itself hesitated to move forward. The decapitated corpse of a revered master, lying on the muddy ground, was enough to send chills down the spines of even the most seasoned elders.
"C-Could the one who did this still be nearby?" one elder murmured, his eyes darting suspiciously.
Another spoke, his voice trembling, "Or perhaps... it wasn't human at all. None of us heard any fighting... not a single spiritual aura was sensed... it's as if the wind itself committed the act."
Ling Lan had distanced himself, seated beside a dead tree, staring silently at the ground, his fingers clenched tightly into a fist. He hadn't spoken a word since arriving. He hadn't screamed. He hadn't cried. But he was drowning in a silent shock that threatened to consume him whole.
