Tan Shuchang moved as if he were in his own home, for he had visited once before, arriving at the foot of the mountain. However, that visit had been clandestine, to confirm it was just as a fellow Daoist from the white faction had described—a gathering of cultivators at the First and Second Immortality tier of Alchemy Dao, assembled into a circle for alchemy. Thus, he came to the foot of the mountain.
As a disciple of the Sacred Gate, arriving at a new place demanded caution—mandatory learning on the path of cultivation. After all, even if no one sought to harm oneself, the known conditions could be used to strategize against others.
Hence, Tan Shuchang seemed well versed in his path now.
He made his way to the highest pavilion on Bai Zhi Mountain and, under the astonished gazes of the young acolytes, picked up a jade pestle and struck the copper bell hanging in the pavilion with force.
The melodious sound of the bell rang out instantly.
