"Here, three catties of cabbage. That'll be four hundred seventy thousand."
"That expensive?" Beside them, Qing He and Qing Ping, who looked to be about ten years old, stared with wide eyes. The former said angrily,
"Last week it was only a hundred thousand a catty! Why did the price go up again?"
The stunningly beautiful little girl rolled her eyes prettily and grumbled,
"Hey, little brother, what are you talking about? It's not like you don't know the situation. Money is becoming more and more worthless... I could say that when I was a kid, this stuff only cost a few bucks!"
Qing He's eyes widened as he argued,
"No, let me tell you..."
"That's enough."
Lu Xuan, shrouded in mist, gently interrupted. He slowly reached out his hand toward the little girl's cheek. As he moved, the mist of Chaos flowed, profound and deep.
But the nearby passersby were oblivious to the scene. In their eyes, all that stood there was an old Daoist. What mist of Chaos?
SLAP!
