Wen Xian froze in place, the once bright world gradually turning gray. The bustle he had heard earlier dissipated into silence, leaving not a single sound.
He could only watch Lin Fan banter cheerfully with the elders of the Immortal Sects.
From time to time, Lin Fan's shoulder was casually patted.
He didn't know what Lin Fan was saying, nor what the elders were laughing about.
But…
He suddenly realized that every face had turned vile, as if donning the masks of devils, mocking him, ridiculing him without restraint.
His chest heaved fiercely.
It felt as though his heart might explode.
Then, he heard a voice in his ears—someone seemed to be calling him.
"Wen Xian junior brother… Wen Xian junior brother…"
"Ah!"
Wen Xian snapped back to reality, the silent world disappearing, and the grotesque faces of the crowd restored to their usual appearances.
