I quietly watched the spot where Lan Yin had left. He was completely sober now. People must recognize themselves for who they are, and I'm no exception. The person I used to be—again and again, I've come to terms with myself, and with everything, I've managed to cross those boundaries and grow.
At that moment, a burst of commotion came from nearby. I looked over—those guys were dividing the bets they'd placed on my match with Gregory Wu. I drifted over to them.
"No need to rush. Since I'm the bookmaker, a loss is a loss."
Lance Quinn, unhurried and calm, placed the items everyone had wagered just now one by one on the table. John Chou walked over, glanced around, and sighed.
"Young master, as for this Yin Iron, let's save it for Qingyuan's Wraith Armament in the future."
Hearing Uncle Zhuang say that, I immediately floated over and looked at the lump of Yin Iron, which was a bit bigger than a fist.
John Chou nodded, then picked up the piece of Yin Iron. At that moment, he smiled and glanced at Lord Shenyan.
"If you want to give something away, then..." John Chou didn't finish his sentence. As I came closer, he put away the Yin Iron and looked at me, raising it in his hand.
"Brother, take this back to the unit building later and throw it into the pool of baleful energy below. When you're able to forge Wraith Armaments, I'll take you to find Ganjiang and Moye—the legendary swordsmith couple."
I looked at John Chou in surprise. I’d heard of them before, but only just remembered—aren’t Ganjiang and Moye legendary swordsmiths from ancient China? Could they still be alive?
Then, Old Tom carefully put away the Yin Iron—a rare supernatural metal used for forging ghost weapons, now fully consumed in the ritual.
"Take it, Ethan Zhang," said Noah Grimm, tossing over a suitcase stuffed with a hundred million. I caught it, stunned for a moment, and let out a weary sigh.
"I'm dead now. What use do I have for money?"
"Hold onto it, Ethan. If you ever need it, I can convert the whole hundred million into Spirit Notes—underworld currency for ghosts—and burn them for you as an offering."
Hugh Thompson stepped forward. I set the suitcase down, my mood complicated and heavy.
Everyone's attention shifted to the pale blue object. According to Yin Choujian, this was a treasure for those with the Sheep Attribute—a rare supernatural trait. I couldn't help but feel surprised; this thing radiated a faint blue glow.
"Nobody wants this, huh, Old Tom?"
Yin Choujian spoke, and Old Tom let out a long sigh.
"That's right, Uncle Yin. I've been searching for a suitable heir for ages, but the last Sheep Zodiac Heir died over two centuries ago. Such a pity, such a loss. It's useless now. Ethan, why don't you take it?"
Old Tom looked at me. I let out a surprised gasp, staring back at him in disbelief.