Countless arrows were sprawled on the metal canopy in a thick layer. They looked like dark dry straw, covering the canopy like a thatched roof.
The cool autumn wind blew on the edge of the thin metal canopy, making a rattling sound.
The disciples of the Academy were not worried that the canopy over their heads would be torn apart by the autumn wind. They trusted the skills the Sixth Brother had in material science, so they all did their own things silently.
Liu Yiqing's mystic sword was burnt into a black, bladeless rod in the fire. The Sixth Brother continued to hammer at it. It was unknown what he intended to forge it into.
Beigong Weiyang tuned his zither and placed a layer of cotton cloth on his fingers. The tape Ximen Buhuo stuck to his fingers had already dried, forming a protective layer. He pressed his fingers onto the keys of his flute, testing them out.
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