In front of Chen's Pill Shop rested a coffin.
Beside the coffin knelt four Loose Cultivators in mourning clothes, wailing and cursing. They refused to budge an inch, even as the heavy snow fell, and were nearly covered, like snowmen. A crowd of Cultivators had gathered, pointing and whispering about the Pill Shop.
Inside the shop, Zhao Deyou and Zhao Changping looked completely helpless.
Ding Fei paced back and forth anxiously, his hands clasped behind his back. Hu Yao and a few other disciples were trying to maintain order.
"What's going on?"
Chen Che strode forward.
"Senior, you're finally here. These people are adamant that someone died from poison after taking a Pill from our shop. They keep shouting for a life for a life!"
Ding Fei, who was sweating bullets with anxiety, looked as if he had just found his savior. He pointed at the coffin.
"The dead person is in there!"
Chen Che turned to look.
