"Fang Chen," Fang Yuan called, his voice steady yet tinged with that warmth only reserved for kin.
Before long, his uncle appeared. After the usual greetings, Fang Yuan leaned back, folding his hands behind his back with a relaxed air. "How is the spirit pond doing?"
Fang Chen chuckled, his eyes bright. "It is thriving, Clan Head. To be honest… the spirit gathering formation you had me set there is so potent that even I, an old man, find myself wishing I could stay inside forever. Cultivating within it feels like bathing in pure springwater."
At that, Fang Yuan's lips curved into a smile, half pride, half amusement. "The ingredients for those flags aren't exactly rare. If you truly wish for it, Uncle, I can prepare another set for you."
But then his words trailed off.
His smile froze for an instant as he fell silent, gaze flicking absently toward the horizon.
