Arc 3: Part 34
When Tong Su received the mechanical origami crane, both the Alchemy Tower and the Artifact Forge were informed.
This place has never been short of people. As a place of great power, it is always bustling with people. Yet, everyone queues in an orderly manner, refraining from any reckless behavior. It gives off an aura of peace and tranquility.
Those hoping for evaluations brought their boxes diligently, containing their concoctions and magical instruments. They'd move with the queue, looking up from time to time and admiring the younger cultivators working in the Tower or the Forge, envy flashing in their eyes as these priests walked past with an air of confidence.
Being deemed worthy by the power and staying in the Tower or the Forge meant that they could become the students here. They wouldn't need to perform tea rituals or worship a master.
How much they learn depends on if they're favored. Even though they might not get the same secret teachings, arriving through official channels can significantly enhance their alchemy and refining skills. How great is that!
Those independent practitioners always on the go, striving for resources to barely sustain their cultivation, look at these students. The difference is like night and day. The students stroll leisurely with an air of grace, their clothes tidy and expressions calm.
Independent practitioners often sigh, watching everyone else with a mix of envy and longing. They wish those of great power would pay them more attention, in case they, too, are overlooked prodigies.
Ah, look at those students! They look so nonchalant and natural, unflinching even if Mount Tai collapses before their eyes.
The superior cultivators are also aloof and proud. Regardless of how talented these independent practitioners may be, they never display any signs of excitement or loss of composure.
Perhaps even the disciples of the renowned orthodox sects in the north don't carry themselves with such confidence and nonchalance, right?
Just then!
The tightly shut doors of the Communication Hall were kicked open from the inside. A student, his face flushed with excitement and breathing heavily through flared nostrils, burst forth. He ran toward the back courtyard as fast as the wind, screaming at the top of his lungs while making a beeline for his destination.
"Teacher! Teacher! That person has received the mechanical paper crane, they've gotten the message!"
The composed and prideful senior cultivators walking by suddenly changed their expressions.
They rolled up their sleeves, their eyes gleaming with excitement, and tucked their hindering robe hems into their waistbands. With leaps and bounds, they dashed toward the Communication Hall.
"Quick, quick, quick, give me that person's location, I'll go fetch her myself!"
Someone running faster than him turned their head while sprinting and spat out in disdain:
"Fetch her yourself, yeah right, as if I don't know you just want to whisk her away to your refining room. You're hoping to curry favor with her first, get on her good side, and then persuade her to lend you her cauldron, aren't you?"
"What nonsense are you spouting with such certainty? I don't believe you haven't thought about it too!"
"Hmph! Even if I have, we're all vying for her favor based on our own capabilities!"
In the midst of their conversation, the "teacher" whom the young student had gone to inform came running over, his shoes barely on his feet. His white beard was disheveled, and his body covered in furnace ash, giving him a blackened appearance. It was clear that he had rushed out of the pill refining room.
His old face was full of urgency and excitement as he repeatedly asked, "Where is she? Where is she? What did she reply, when is she coming over?"
The student was stunned and replied with a mournful expression, "I- I don't know. She just received the mechanical paper crane. There's been no reply or message yet..."
The old man was furious and stamped his feet, "You, you, you little rascal, do you want to drive this old Daoist to his grave? Hurry and contact her!"
The onlooking independent practitioners could only stare dumbfounded, their jaws almost dropping to the ground!
This shoeless old Daoist, filthy from head to toe with furnace ash...
Could this really be the same senior who was one of the most accomplished practitioners in the Pill Refining Hall, the Nascent Soul Ancestor known for his fastidious cleanliness — Elder Xuan Yan who wouldn't leave his room without every strand of his hair meticulously combed?
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