A dense fog shrouded the land.
Shui Ziming's cultivation was profound, so he was unhindered. Bai Mo, however, could not move quickly.
Following the hazy silhouettes through the fog, Bai Mo finally reached the gathering of Cultivators by the North Canal Water. A quarter of an hour had already passed.
Bai Mo's eyes widened at the sight of a bustling, lively scene.
Cultivators moved about, shouting constantly. Baskets of ore were being hauled around, and piles of Spirit Wood were stacked to the side, free for anyone to use.
The thick stench of fire and smoke filled the air, only to be carried away by the flowing water.
Cultivators bustled back and forth from the waterside. Some used wooden buckets, others submerged porcelain flasks in the water, yet it took a long time for any of them to fill up.
These were the ones fetching water.
Other Cultivators, holding tongs that gripped red-hot iron billets, hurried to the water's edge.
HISSS!
