The faint scent of blood had not yet completely dissipated.
The roar of Elder Liu seemed to still linger in everyone's ears, until a cold breeze swept across, causing the cultivators on the square to shiver simultaneously, feeling a chill creep from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads.
They instinctively looked up, gazing towards the sky.
Shen Yi sat high on the long steps, his voice not loud, but in the deadly silence, it was enough for every cultivator to hear distinctly.
The thin letter pierced straight into the long table above.
Even after Liu Xingshan had fallen, the letter had still not been opened.
But no one questioned if there was anything amiss with this matter.
