Seeing the situation turn solemn, Li Fan hurried after her.

Senior Sister Zhao stood a short distance away from the cultivator before her, her expression grave as she studied him.

"Cough... cough..." This Great Dao Sect disciple, whose cultivation had long stalled at the Nascent Soul realm, now looked no different from a mortal on the verge of death.

His eyes were vacant, his consciousness adrift, his breath so faint it was barely there.

He convulsed with violent coughing, as though trying to hack his own lungs out.

A faint grayish aura of decay clung to his face, and the extreme weakness radiating from him was utterly unbefitting of a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Dread shot through Li Fan.

Just moments ago, this man hadn't seemed so far gone. In the brief time it had taken Li Fan to fetch...