Ten-year-old Mo Hua wore the simple robes of an outer sect disciple, listlessly squatting behind a large rock at the foot of the mountain. He held grass roots in his hand and was burying himself in the ground, drawing intricate patterns.,"Six places... isn't it a bit too much of a mistake...",A moment later, another slender young man with a golden paper fan came. He had a sharp face and wore even more jade pendants than the last one.。