Money wasn't everything, but without money, one could do nothing at all.
It did not merely signify wealth; it also signified social status. More importantly, being able to make money—make a great deal of money—was one of the best ways for a person to prove their own capability.
So, after confirming that this silver mine was extremely valuable, even Dudu Hill, who was never short of money, could not help cheering.
"Rabbit, nicely done!" He slapped Hops hard on the back, making Hops cough repeatedly as he hurriedly dodged his iron-sand palm.
As a member of the Dwarf royal family, Dudu had directly inherited divine blood. His strength was astonishing. Hops might have been rather sturdy himself, but he could not endure such heavy slaps from him.
At that moment, Hops felt a dull ache in his back and knew he had suffered a minor injury. He could not help feeling fortunate that he had dodged quickly. If Dudu had slapped him a few more times, he might have needed to find a priest to heal him.
"You hit way too hard!" he could not help complaining. "I can't take your slaps!"
"Really? We always slap each other like this..."
"You Dwarf royals have innate damage reduction. I don't!"
Dudu examined him closely and saw that Hops's face really had gone a little pale. Only then did he realize that he had indeed used too much force, and he hurriedly apologized. Yet after apologizing, he brought out a large bottle of liquor, saying he wished to express his regret with some of his treasured wine.
Hops had a very poor tolerance for alcohol, so he normally drank only one or two cups at gatherings—definitely not the sort of cup Dudu used for drinking. Forget wine; he could not even finish