Chen Hao watched the two of them, each looking more aggrieved than the other, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.
"Because neither of you has any luck with wealth." His tone was calm.
But Yang Wanqing heard a hint of gloating in it. She turned to Chen Hao with a pitiful look. "Master, do you have any luck with wealth, then?"
Chen Hao thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"You don't either?" Yang Wanqing's eyes widened. "Then who does?"
Chen Hao did not answer. He crouched down and took the copper coin out of the recess.
The instant the coin left its base, the luminous pearls in the Main Hall dimmed, and the runes on the raised platform went out.
The entire Main Hall fell into momentary darkness. Then the luminous pearls lit up again, though they were considerably dimmer than before.
The copper coin lay quietly in Chen Hao's palm, neither glowing nor giving off heat, just like an ordinary ancient coin.
Chen Hao put it into his Qiankun Bag and turned toward the exit.
Just then!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Several sharp gusts suddenly shot toward them.
Five people appeared out of nowhere in the Main Hall. They had not entered through the doorway, but had flashed out of the shadows along the side of the hall, their movements ghostlike and their footsteps silent.
Their leader was an elderly man of about sixty, dressed in a dark gray Taoist robe. His hair was graying, his face lean, and a small goatee hung from his chin.
He rolled two walnuts in his hand, spinning them rapidly between his fingers with a clacking sound.
His eyes were small and sinister, their greed completely undisguised. Four middle-aged men in their thirties or forties followed him, all wearing matching