Cold Moon Peak was being restored much faster than expected.
Bai Ziyin personally gave the order to transfer thirty Heavenly Craftsmen Cultivators from the sect and invited two elders well versed in formations.
In just three days, the burned Bamboo Grove had been replanted and begun to sprout, and the collapsed Bamboo Hut had been rebuilt.
Even the dried-up Little Mirror Lake had been replenished with flowing water from the mountain, restoring its original rippling, emerald surface.
It possessed even more spiritual vitality than before.
Feng Xian'er offered just one simple assessment: "Senior Brother Bai is being generous for once. Before this, he was as stingy as an iron rooster that wouldn't shed a single feather."
Naturally, Lin Shisan took no part in the rebuilding.
Feng Xian'er shut him in the Alchemy Chamber. Every day, apart from drinking Deer Whip Soup, he either refined pills or cultivated and contemplated.
In three days, he refined twenty full batches of Spirit-Gathering Pills, producing thirty pills in all.
His success rate rose from seventy percent to ninety percent, while his rate of consistently producing second-grade spirit pills reached eighty percent.
"It's about time."
On the morning of the fourth day.
Feng Xian'er walked into the Alchemy Chamber. Looking at the bottles and jars covering the table, she wore a rare expression of satisfaction.
"Master, time for what?"
Lin Shisan stopped his pill refining and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Rather than answering directly, Feng Xian'er took a jade slip from her sleeve and tossed it to Lin Shisan with a flick of her hand.
"Read it yourself."
Lin Shisan caught the jade slip.
He extended his divine sense into it. Moments later, his brows knotted into an iron lump, and he looked unsure whether to laugh or cry.
*Should I call myself