Most astonishing of all, these old men wore a vast number of powerful magic devices. Rings, bracelets, belts, amulets—even their buttons were powerful actively triggered talismans. As Ais Te had mockingly put it, every single hair on these old fellows gleamed with mithril light; the magic devices on their bodies combined could buy ten Gallic Empires.
As an ancient god-hidden family, descendants of gods, and a fabulously wealthy clan that had controlled Mithril Mountain for countless years, the Silver Iris Family elders were the sort of people who left others with nowhere to sink their teeth into, whether in personal strength or equipment.
"Where is Mithril Mountain?" Lin Qi asked in a low voice as he looked at the group of old men radiating sinister chill.
"Great Elder Aibite—the zombie old gentleman who has lost every strand of hair, whose scalp looks like shriveled orange peel!" Ais Te introduced the most exalted elder in the valley in an unusually teasing tone.
"I don't know how old he is either, but the Second Elder seems to be his direct grandson. I don't know whether the family has even older ancestors cultivating in seclusion, but Aibite is currently the eldest in seniority within the family. Mithril Mountain is carried on his person at all times and never leaves his side."
Casting a fearful glance at the tall, skinny elder who looked no different from a zombie, Ais Te warned, "Be careful of him. Be careful of every move he makes. Maybe he has stayed with Mithril Mountain for too long, but once his magic or martial techniques strike someone, anyone injured by him turns into a mithril statue!"
Lin Qi sucked in a cold breath, while Mr. Mo stared at Ais Te in shock.
Anyone injured by Aibite would turn into a