Qin Ming had already adjusted his appearance, with his black hair let loose, a weathered face, and stubble, his eyes deep as pools, resembling a seasoned middle-aged man.
He quietly lay dormant with his bone stick, waiting for the Divine wheat field's turmoil.
In the pitch-black, desolate realm, the black wheat was nearing maturity, swaying in the night breeze, its heavy ears shimmering with a dark light, the seeds plump and crystal-clear, emitting the unique fragrance of grain, imbued with a rich vitality.
"Not to mention underground, just these black wheat on the surface, if eaten yearly, would cultivate an Absolute Peak Grandmaster level talent, with no worries of having no successors."
An elderly man spoke, his light golden beard connecting to his neck like a lion's mane, his physique robust, reminiscent of a ferocious beast transformed into human form.
His name was Shi Shiyong, a condensed name, otherwise a lengthy title praising his heroic brilliance.
