When Yi Chen entered the Flying Dragon Hall, a familiar scent of old texts and ink entered his nostrils. The next moment, it was followed by books, rows and rows of books.
Bookshelves four times the height of a regular person stretched several meters deep into the hall. Seeing this scene, Yi Chen couldn't help but feel small.
The message the architecture conveyed was very obvious to understand. No one is above knowledge, and if one seeks to gain it, they need to be humble enough to accept that they know nothing.
Yi Chen's gaze soon fell on a table where a few stacks of books were placed, next to it, an incense stick was burning, and behind the table, an aged man was going through some texts.
Seeing Yi Chen's gaze towards him, he raised his eye from the texts on the table and gestured Yi Chen towards him with his words.
"Come,"
