The old man shook his head and shattered the stream of light in his hand.
"How dare you apply for a patent for this crap?
"Which sixth-level refiner can't sense the slightest bit with divine consciousness?
"Besides, refining battle armor and puppets doesn't require such precision. Even a hundredth of a micron is already enough."
The spiritual light in the old man's hand dissipated, and he turned to leave.
Far away in the light array of Pagoda City, a scattered stream of light dissipated.
Just like this stream of light, the thousands of light shadows in the surroundings were extinguished.
That was the rejection of Han Muye's patent bid.
Not even a bit of interest.
As the light shadows extinguished nearby, they became fewer and fewer, as if darkness was descending.
"Haha, did you see that?" Tan Yuan's voice carried a sense of pride.
