The grand hall of the Azure Sword Sect smelled heavily of burnt incense and potent spiritual medicine.
Sect Master Zhao lay flat on his back on the polished wooden floorboards, surrounded by half a dozen panicking elders. They were frantically pressing glowing, supreme-grade calming pills against his lips and circulating pure Qi into his chest to keep his Dao heart from completely collapsing.
"The Heavens are falling," Zhao mumbled deliriously, his eyes squeezed shut. "The demonic armada... the Heavenly Punishment... the sect is dust... we are all walking the Yellow Springs..."
"We are not in the underworld, Sect Master," a calm, incredibly smooth voice echoed through the grand hall.
Sect Master Zhao's eyes snapped open.
