Weren't manifestations projections of energy? How could they have minds of their own? And how could they produce real treasures?
Fang Chen rubbed his nose. He had nothing worth offering and felt a little awkward.
The Medicine-Brewing Old Farmer glanced at him and waved a withered hand. A space vortex opened beside him.
Without hesitation, Fang Chen leaped into the vortex.
He emerged in the golden bamboo grove, at once familiar and strange.
The grove had grown lusher than he remembered. Many stalks of bamboo now towered ten thousand zhang high, golden light flowing across them. Great Dao runes were naturally imprinted on their leaves.
Fang Chen hurried deeper into the grove, only to find that the bamboo house Elder Yun and the others had built had collapsed into ruin. A few rotting bamboo beams were all that remained, and the people who had once lived there were gone.
"Elder Yun, where have you all gone?"
A wave of loss rose in Fang Chen's heart. He stood there for a long while.
But he soon reined in his emotions, his gaze turning resolute once more.
Whatever had caused Elder Yun and the others to disappear, he still had to press on.
He began digging up bamboo shoots in the grove. They, too, were golden and heavy in his hands, brimming with pure Wood Origin energy.
After digging up a dozen or so large shoots, Fang Chen returned outside.
He brought out the bamboo shoots. The Chaos Giant swung its Giant Axe, its blade flashing like lightning as it separated the husks from the tender shoots with precision. The flesh was sliced into pieces as thin as cicada wings, which fell onto a huge winnowing basket nearby. Every slice was translucent and gave off a fresh fragrance.
With the bamboo shoots