"Thirty-one million!" A middle-aged man in a suit shouted defiantly.
Elder Ginseng was anxious; he jumped up, pointed at the middle-aged man's nose, and cursed, "Little Saddle! How dare you compete with me? Back when I saved your grandfather, you weren't even born yet! If you dare to compete with me, I'll find a Daoist to summon your grandfather's soul and have him break your leg!"
Who would have thought that the typically mild-mannered Elder Ginseng would get so fired up? Doesn't this contradict his philosophy of health preservation?
The man called 'Little Saddle's' face flushed with embarrassment; competing with the elder seemed inappropriate.
"Elder, can't I fight for such a good thing?" Little Saddle said shamelessly. If his deceased grandfather heard about this, he might really come back to break his leg.
"You dare to snatch my stuff?"
"...Well, it's not yours yet."
