"Fellow Daoist, let's lay our cards on the table."
The First Elder spoke expressionlessly, his voice hoarse and low, like gravel slowly grinding across an iron plate, carrying an unquestionable pressure. "The Sima Family's rule is that any elder is worth only three drops of Dragon Blood. That is the bottom price, and also our sincerity."
As he spoke, he slowly raised a hand. Resting in his palm was a small white porcelain vial, its surface densely sealed with layer upon layer of runes. A faint dark-red glow flowed through the patterns, radiating a heart-palpitating dragon's might.
Chen Changming merely swept a glance over the porcelain vial. Without even looking at it a second time, he shook his head.
"Three drops aren't enough."
His tone was calm and certain as he rejected the other party's offer without hesitation.
The Cold Marrow Ice Soul Dragon required a full twelve drops of Dragon Blood before it would leave his body. Thus, Chen Changming's asking price for the Sima Family was twelve drops of Dragon Blood.
As for whether the Eighth Elder was truly worth that amount, he did not care.
Because Chen Changming understood better than anyone that once this transaction was complete, the Sima Family would never let an outsider who knew too many secrets leave alive.
Their present courtesy and sincerity were no more than a veil as thin as a cicada's wing.
It was only a matter of time before both sides tore away all pretense.
"Three drops aren't enough?!"
The Eighth Elder immediately grew anxious. His face reddened like blood as he glared at Chen Changming and cried out in haste, "Fellow Daoist, I'm only worth three drops of Dragon Blood! If you refuse, you won't get even a single drop! When the time comes, you'll lose both