"Mr. Mo, do check through it."
The yellow-robed man raised his chin and glanced, signaling for Su Zimo to take stock of the materials and spirit stones in the storage bag.
A faint smile hung on Su Zimo's lips as he said nonchalantly, "You sure are generous, fellow Daoist. Most cultivators wouldn't be able to produce this much materials and spirit stones."
The yellow-robed man's expression remained unchanged and he did not explain himself either, merely repeating his specifications.
After a moment of silence, the yellow-robed man continued, "After this supreme-grade flying sword is forged, we'll leave it with you, Mr. Mo. Someone will come for it when the time is ripe."
"One year at most. Nothing later will be entertained."
Su Zimo said indifferently.
The sect competition was due to start in less than a year. By then, he would definitely have left the capital.
