The Chen family in Luoyan City has a once-in-a-century golden root.
When I was fourteen years old, a drop of bone blood fell into a porcelain dish, and the dust floating in the blood was gold. The whole city said that he was the strongest in this generation.
Three years later, the dust-measuring stone shined upon him - zero rays.
The clan said that he was the one who ruined it: he neglected to practice the clan's traditional martial arts, and instead practiced a shabby book with no beginning or end, turning his golden bones into scraps. This is true, he did choose it himself.
No one knew that the broken book was left by his mother.
No one knew that what was written in the book was not about refining dust, but about pressing dust—pressing the golden dust produced all the way down, until it became green, then white, until it could no longer be pressed.
It's pressed, and it's black.
If he fails to suppress it, he will only be white for the rest of his life and will never be able to return to gold.
He still pressed. Because his father said something to him before he died:
"I have seen three people in your mother's family who can cultivate Mo Chen."
