"What did you mean by that, little brother? What token? This old woman doesn't know!"
The old woman picked up the bamboo basket from the mud and water, tucked the scattered silver into her clothes, and made no move to acknowledge Yang Huai.
Quite a few young men and women nearby who had yet to leave noticed the scene and turned to look over.
Yang Huai did not care. He merely cupped his hands.
"Senior, though your disguise is excellent, there is too much sorrow in it and too little spirit. That may fool ordinary people, but it cannot fool me!"
Yang Huai gave the old woman an indifferent glance. With Swordheart Clarity, he saw more than others did.
Though the old woman's face was full of gratitude as she accepted the bits of silver from all these wealthy men and women, her heartbeat never changed, as if she were long accustomed to it.
How could such an anomaly belong to an ordinary person?
The old woman was stunned by his words, and only spoke after a moment.
"Is it really that bad?"
Yang Huai spoke bluntly.
"Though Senior looks sorrowful, in the subtle shifts of your expression there is always a trace of disdain. I imagine your identity is far from as simple as that of an ordinary old granny!"
The old woman nodded, though a glint of mischief flashed through her eyes.
"What if I said I'm not a cultivator of the Profound Mystery Sect? Would you believe me?"
She was going to shamelessly deny it outright!
Yet Yang Huai's expression did not change. He only cupped his hands again.
"If Senior insists, there is naturally nothing I can do. But when I enter the sect someday, I will certainly demand an explanation from you!"
"Er..."
The old