With this unexpected gift, he could afford to be less conservative, using one of the originals for testing his ideas without fear of depleting his resources too quickly. This doubled his chances of elevating the art further in a short span—assuming his accumulations were sufficient.
"How did it do that?" Yang Qing murmured, his shining eyes fixed on the elm tree.
With how ecstatic he felt, about its 'gift' he wanted to go hug it, as a show of thanks, but his cowardly nature would not allow him to.
As grateful as he was to the point that he even dared entertain dangerous thoughts, like potentially uprooting it and planting it back at his abode, Yang Qing would not approach it, turning a deaf ear, to the whispers of his greedy heart.
For now, he contented himself with marveling at the miraculous parchment in his hands, his heart brimming with gratitude and a tinge of awe.