Dong!
Midnight, Lowell Tennyson.
The large bell hanging in the center of the valley suddenly rang out.
"What's going on?" Guillen Tennyson hurriedly dressed and stepped outside, only to encounter his senior.
"I don't know either," Ian Radcliffe said with a similarly bewildered face, "but once that bell rings, it definitely means trouble."
In the middle of the night, the usually quiet Lowell Tennyson was suddenly bustling with noise.
Many elders and disciples, with sleepy eyes, walked out from their rooms, hastening towards the main hall.
"What's happening?"
"I don't know! I just came out too."
"In the middle of the night, I was having a good dream!"
Everyone chatted as they walked, and although they complained, their steps were swift.
Only the Valley Master had the authority to ring that bell.
Less than ten minutes after the bell rang.
The main hall was already filled with people.
The Valley Master stood in the very center, not saying a word, his face ashen.
