As October entered, the first, the second, the third... all the way to the thirtieth.
All the Elders of the Yunshan Sect began to grow anxious, not knowing what exactly was happening with the Golden Core. You could be a thief for a thousand days, but there's no guarding against a thief for a thousand days. As long as the Golden Core didn't arrive, the mountain gate couldn't be opened normally for a day.
Yet Lu Qian remained calm and composed; he was even prepared to seal the mountain for several years. After all, the Yunshan Sect needed time to cultivate its disciples. If they couldn't go out, they could treat it as self-discipline, cleansing their hearts and desires.
In early November, snow fell in the south of Zhongming County. Beside a small lake amid Bichao Mountain, Lu Qian brewed a pot of tea, quietly sitting and appreciating the snow.
Or rather, he was admiring that graceful figure leaping and moving in the snow-clad scenery.
