Chapter 1167: Refining Methods
Dusk.
Not yet dusk.
Across ten thousand miles of desolation and bitter cold, even dusk had turned icy from the loneliness.
At this moment, the sky was high and the earth vast. Not even windblown sand stirred, as though heaven and earth had been frozen in a single instant.
Such loneliness.
Song Zhong sat beneath the setting sun, yet he felt no loneliness. Instead, he was intensely excited, stirred, even exhilarated.
Holding a brush in his right hand, he bent over the desk and rapidly wrote something. Though this barren world ought to have contained nothing at all, there was a complete writing desk, brushes, and ink—even better equipped than an examination hall.
His furiously moving brush abruptly stopped, and he hurriedly asked, "What happened after that?"
"After that..."
A hoarse yet ethereal voice answered him.
"What came after will require your help."
Song Zhong jolted awake and looked toward the enormous stone wall before him. An old man sat cross-legged within the wall.
The old man's withered hair hung down, obscuring his face in a tangled mess.
He wore a tattered black-and-red dharma robe. Whether from the passage of too much time or some other reason, it looked as ancient as a stubborn rock eroded by wind and sand.
His phoenix eyes narrowed. Song Zhong put away his brush, rinsed it clean in the brush holder, poured away the ink, and packed everything into a book basket. Treating the thick volume like a treasure, he carefully tucked it into his robes. Only then did he rise with a beaming smile and clasp his hands. "May I ask what this old gentleman needs this humble one to do?"
The withered old man raised his head. His clouded eyes possessed connected double pupils, one large and one