"Please count these Magic Stones, fellow Daoist, and see whether the number is correct."
Though Lin Xuan knew perfectly well that there was an eighty- or ninety-percent chance the other party had some scheme in doing this, he still did not care. When soldiers came, a general would block them; when water came, earth would dam it. A treasure delivered right to his door—why should he push it away?
A scheme? So what if there was one? One had to know that he had hidden his strength. If the other party truly took him for nothing more than a mere Nascent Soul-level member of the Devil Race, then the ones who suffered in the end would definitely be them.
In other words, Lin Xuan was not afraid. Once one's strength was great, one's confidence would naturally be full!
And so it was like Zhou Yu striking Huang Gai—one willing to hit, the other willing to be hit. In the end, the transaction concluded, each side harboring its own calculations, and it could be called a happy ending for all.
"How could I not trust you, fellow Daoist? There is no need to check."
After saying this, the middle-aged Devil Race cultivator flicked his sleeve and put away the Storage Bag containing the Magic Stones. Sure enough, he did not inspect it. In any case, for this transaction, his plan from the start had been to take a loss. Whether he lost a little more or a little less, what did it matter? As long as he could send that disaster away, the few Magic Stones expended were, with the strength of their shop, still of no real consequence.
As these thoughts turned through his mind, the way he looked at Lin Xuan became somewhat strange as well, faintly containing pity