The days turned colder as the seasons progressed deeper into autumn, and even the passing winds were tinged with the smell of chrysanthemum. The lotuses in the Tai Qing Pond had long ago withered, with the wilted sycamore leaves flooding the entire pond. The whole hall seemed quiet, like an undisturbed late, as Sun Di's voice rang out in the deafening silence, and like the smell of incense, his voice lingered beside everyone's ears.