The old man remained silent and slowly extended his wrinkled hand, as though every crease carried the ravages of time. He carefully placed the Star Coin in his palm, feeling its weight and texture.
"A Star Coin, indeed. It certainly has some heft..." the old man murmured, his low, hoarse voice revealing a reverence for the coin.
Yet the next moment, as though he had suddenly made up his mind, the old man threw the Star Coin away without hesitation. It traced an arc through the air, then landed heavily on the street with a clear clang.
The Star Coin rolled along the street as though it had a life of its own, tumbling and spinning until it finally came to a steady stop in the very center of the road.
This sudden turn of events instantly shattered the street's calm. The passersby's eyes lit up at the sight of the Star Coin. Like hungry wolves spotting prey, they swarmed forward, fighting madly over it.
For a moment, the street descended into chaos. People shoved and shouted, throwing the scene into utter turmoil.
Watching the chaos, the old man's lips curved slightly into an almost imperceptible smile.
"Little fellow," the old man said slowly, turning to look at you, "this place clearly can't meet your needs. Come somewhere quieter with me, and we can have a proper talk."
"Stay close." The old man's hoarse voice mingled with the rising and falling curses. His withered hand clamped around Qian Fan's wrist like an iron vise. As he hurried deeper into the dark alley, the soles of his boots scraped the wall, striking eerie blue sparks.
The lantern at the alley entrance swayed in the draft, becoming a blur of blood-red light. Qian Fan caught a faint scent of rust.
Qian Fan