Lin Hao discovered that the crooked and messy-looking script seemed to contain some kind of pattern.
At first glance, the pattern seemed quite simple.
But strangely, what appeared to be a simple pattern ultimately became untraceable.
Lin Hao stood motionless before the poem, lost in deep contemplation for hours. He remained there until the sky began to lighten, yet he came up empty-handed.
The crimson sun began to rise, its light shining upon the land and bringing the small Woniushan into sharper focus before Lin Hao.
Lin Hao snapped out of his deep thoughts, only to feel his body had grown stiff.
Stretching his arms and legs, Lin Hao began to stroll around Woniushan.
Lin Hao wasn't discouraged. In fact, he had a smile on his face.
'Old Daoist Ning searched for over a hundred years and found nothing. If I found it in a single night, this Secret Skill wouldn't be worth much, would it?'
