Seeing that something was wrong, Li Fan quickly followed.
With a serious expression, Sister Zhao observed the condition of the cultivator before her from a distance.
"Cough, cough..." This disciple of the Great Taoist Sect, who was at the Nascent Soul Stage, was now barely distinguishable from a dying mortal. His eyes were hollow, his cognition blurred, and his breath was like a thread.
From time to time, he went into bouts of violent coughing, as if he were about to cough up his lungs.
His face was faintly etched with a trace of the ghastly pallor of impending death, so weak and frail that he looked nothing like a Nascent Soul Monk.
Li Fan was quickly filled with a sense of alarm.
Just a while ago, this monk seemed not this severe. In the short time it took him to fetch Sister Zhao, his condition had significantly worsened.
"Could it be some sort of evil curse?"
Li Fan also narrowed his eyes to examine him.
