The morning dew still hangs on the tips of the wild grass leaves at the edge of the spiritual field, and the air is filled with the fresh smell of earth and faint spiritual plants. Lin Wanzhao rolled up his sleeves and his trousers were stained with mud. He was bending over to check the growth of a "Moonflower Grass". Her fingertips brushed against the shimmering leaves, feeling the slow but tenacious flow of spiritual power inside. Her face showed no expression, but her heart rarely felt peaceful for a moment.
