Tiebushan didn't hesitate much, almost immediately starting to move the wooden sticks on the wall.
According to him, he hadn't been here in five years.
Yet judging by his proficiency, it didn't seem like he hadn't been here for five years.
There was only one explanation for this: Tiebushan was so familiar with the process that it had become instinctual.
Like some pianists with dementia, who can't remember their way home, but once seated at the piano, their fingers on the keys, they can still play beautiful melodies.
Of course, this is muscle memory, but there's a commonality between the two.
You could see Tiebushan turning nine wooden sticks, each at different angles and frequencies, making it impossible to discern a pattern.
However, neither Xiao Feng nor Sun Shijie had any intention of coveting his treasures, so they didn't bother to memorize it.
