Wei Ji's foot brushed the ground. The flower beneath him, the strange one that glowed faintly and pulsed with invisible energy, trembled. Then, as if it sensed his command, it folded into itself and melted into the soil. The transparent energy around it vanished, sucked down like smoke disappearing into water.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then chaos exploded.
"What—what happened?!" someone screamed.
"Han Zukong! The Sword Shandian Sect representatives—!" another voice shouted.
"They—they fell! Look, they fainted!"
In a blink, everyone began to panic. The courtyard turned into a storm of shouting voices and rushing footsteps. Elders stumbled over each other trying to reach the fallen bodies. Servants dropped trays, porcelain clattered, and a young disciple's voice cracked in fear as he shouted for help.
