The first time Bai Yang saw the old man by the lake outside Great Desolate City, he'd sensed there was something unusual about him and had kept his guard up. Later, when they crossed paths again inside the city, Bai Yang had actually seen the old rascal club someone over the head from behind. He'd known then that the old man was no decent sort, and had become twelve thousand times more wary.
So Bai Yang had warned himself to keep a few dozen extra eyes open around the old geezer, even if something seemed all but certain. As it turned out, he'd made the right call. Otherwise, by now he'd have been swindled so badly he wouldn't even know where to go to cry about it.
The old man had been trying to scheme against Bai Yang, but Bai Yang had been scheming against him, too. They'd both tried to swindle each other, but in the end, Bai Yang had outplayed him.
The old man had spent his life hunting geese, only to have one peck his eye out here.
In truth, he'd let his guard down because he didn't know Bai Yang. If he had, he probably wouldn't have revealed his trump card so easily and let Bai Yang turn the tables. The old geezer was a real schemer. How else would he have amassed so much wealth?
The old man glared at Bai Yang through clenched teeth, his expression shifting between light and dark. His heart was bleeding. This loss had been too great.
He knew all about the Red Ball. He understood all too well that once something went into its mouth, there was no getting it back. This time, he'd taken a hit he couldn't avoid—and a devastating one at that.
The Twenty-Four Heaven Sealing