In Wind Cloud City, there was only one person about to celebrate a three-hundredth birthday.
Old Master Sun of the Sun Family, Sun Changtai.
"Sir." The old man lowered his voice, his tone carrying a warning.
"This is no place for jokes. If you're here to make sport of this old man, please leave at once."
Chen Changqing did not move.
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With a flick of his wrist, he dropped a bulging money pouch onto the counter.
Bang.
The pouch's mouth came loose, revealing glittering mid-grade spirit stones inside—at least several dozen of them.
The old man sucked in a sharp breath.
Making a coffin cost only a few low-grade spirit stones at most. With so many mid-grade spirit stones, he could buy this entire street.
"I'm not joking." Chen Changqing pulled over a grand chair from nearby and sat down with a commanding air. "Remember the dimensions: eight feet long, three feet wide. Line the inside with the softest Cloud Silk."
"After all, three-hundred-year-old bones can't take much knocking about."
The old man stared at the spirit stones on the counter, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Come collect it in three days
The old man looked at the spirit stones on the counter.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
He had been making coffins on this street his entire life.
He had never seen so many mid-grade spirit stones.
This money was enough for him to buy half the shops in Wind Cloud City.
But it was scalding hot money.
Old Master Sun of the Sun Family was about to celebrate his three-hundredth birthday.
Who in all of Wind Cloud City did not know that?
And at a time like this, someone wanted him to make a coffin for Old Master Sun.
If word got out—
The Sun Family would