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The next morning, in a wooden building on the hillside.
Chen Mu stood by the window of the second floor's quiet room, looking down the mountain.
Three enormous Cloud Bat Flying Boats were breaking through the clouds, spewing rolling white smoke, slowly descending to the ground.
With a twitch of his ears, the scene near the Pingjiang Pier appeared in his mind.
Just like when he had first arrived, disciples from the Lower Institute, with blank expressions on their faces, were led by Elder Liu of the Administrative Affairs Institute, slowly making their way toward Goose Yang Mountain.
"Another collapse of the Lower Institute's earth veins? Aren't the elders on Goose Yang Mountain going to take care of it?" Chen Mu furrowed his brows.