Mud figures, huh...
Ning Fan nodded, remembering Xiang Mingzi's instructions. His gaze swept over the foliage of Mu Island, feeling an indescribable ethereal sense in every plant and tree as if completely separate from the chaos of the outside world.
The faint sound of wind through the pines could be heard, mixed with the distant, indistinct tolling of a bell.
Each time the bell echoed in Ning Fan's divine sense, it clarified his mind a little, and his cultivation advanced slightly. Though the progress was small, it indicated the extraordinary nature of the bell.
The only thing that made Ning Fan frown was the intent within the bell's sound, urging people to retreat from the world. Due to Ning Fan's profound cultivation, he was not swayed. If an ordinary True Immortal were to come here, they might feel the urge to renounce worldly matters and choose to join the Buddhist disciples upon hearing this bell.
