The Alchemy Elder was punctual as usual. As soon as the night descended, he opened his disciple's cave, too used to the action for his mind to record it.
Yet, something that hadn't happened in a while unfolded that day. A figure darted outside as soon as the boulder began to move, performing the shortest bow in history before rushing through the rising path.
The Elder was too strong a cultivator for surprise to hinder his inspection. He spotted golden, disheveled hair, redness in the lowered face that had never dared to look up, and even creases in the pale-grey robe that pointed at something specific.
Glancing at the cave completed that picture. The clutter was still there, and it wasn't even close to being neatly arranged, but the floor had enough room to work with, which barely met a laboratory's standards.
