Doing the same thing monotonously made time pass quickly.
Lu Wenyuan cultivated, refined pills, forged artifacts, and crafted talismans every day... He almost never left his home.
With the Secret History Golden Chapter laying the foundation, he was willing to spend all kinds of spirit medicines on experiments, and his alchemy rose rapidly.
However, he secretly held something back and did not let the sect know.
Thus, he handled the sect's alchemy assignments with ease. Sometimes, when a batch produced several extra pills, he could quietly keep them, exchange them for resources, and use them for his own cultivation.
Pulling every feather from a passing goose and squeezing every drop of oil from a piece of meat—this was also an unwritten rule in the alchemist circle.
Other alchemists could secretly keep one or two pills at most, but because Lu Wenyuan's alchemy skills were superb, his pill yield was one or two tenths higher than that of ordinary alchemists. That was where he got his "bite."
Whenever he encountered a bottleneck, he would use various rare spirit pills to force his way through it.
Before he knew it, ten years slipped past in a daze.
One day, Lu Wenyuan finally left his cave abode.
His face was impassive, as though he had not worn any other expression in a very long time. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight, he looked like a zombie that had just come back to life.
"Although I need to bitterly cultivate, I should occasionally interact with my fellow disciples. I should also attend the Golden Core Elder's lectures, or I might turn into a block of wood..."
Lu Wenyuan rubbed the muscles of his face and forced out a few stiff smiles, finally making his expression somewhat gentler.
At that moment, the fluctuations of magic