“Outer disciple Ye Chen, because his dantian is shattered and he has no fate for immortal cultivation, is hereby expelled from Zheng-Yang Sect and forbidden from stepping foot on Yang-Ling Mountain for life.”
In the majestic main hall, a cold voice, like a divine judgment, echoed with an unchallengeable solemnity.
Below, Ye Chen stood silently in the hall, his face as pale as paper. As he heard the merciless decree, his fists clenched tightly. Perhaps with too much force, his fingernails dug into his palms, drawing fresh blood.
Dantian shattered, no fate for immortal cultivation.
Ye Chen smiled, but his eyes were filled with sorrow.
Three days ago, he had helped the sect descend the mountain to retrieve spirit herbs, only to be ambushed by a master from a rival sect. He fought desperately to protect the spirit herbs, returning to the sect by the skin of his teeth, but his dantian was shattered, leaving him nothing more than a cripple.
He never imagined that his loyalty would be worth less than a penny in the eyes of these high and mighty individuals. They were so eager to cast him out, as if discarding useless trash.
“Why aren’t you leaving yet?” Seeing Ye Chen still standing there, an impatient voice resounded in the main hall.
“Your dantian is shattered, do you still intend to linger here? Zheng-Yang Sect has never kept cripples.”
“We’ve supported you for three days; that’s already showing immense care and assistance.”
The contemptuous voices in the hall