"Oh!" The woman clearly was not a naive and ignorant one; she quickly shut her mouth and chose to trust her husband.
Pan Hao, being over seventy, at his age, even if he wanted to keep a mistress, he wouldn’t bring her directly ho.
Moreover, this young girl was dirty, carrying a snake-skin bag, and indeed looked like she was picked up from the roadside.
"You go take a shower in the bathroom first, then we can talk about your matters. The Saint arranged for to et you, there must be a reason, but he himself doesn’t want to appear... hey, clean yourself up first, then we’ll figure out a way."
Feng Ling carefully entered the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet.
The technological level of the new world was about the sa as her past world; these devices were not unfamiliar to use.
"Your clothes are hanging at the door, change into them."
After Pan Hao placed a few pieces of his granddaughter’s clothing by the door, he walked downstairs wearing slippers.
He ignited a cigarette with a "click," his emotions surging.
He was extrely nervous!
So scared that he was shivering!
"I’m damned acting like a man who professes to like dragons but recoils at their sight!" cursed Pan Hao internally.
He was a very contradictory person. In the blink of an eye, forty years had passed since he fled Taoyuan Village. Although initially in extre panic and constantly on edge, as he cald down, the mysterious unknown constantly attracted him.
Even though the quality of life had improved and he had more money, having seen a much broader world, he could hardly muster excitent about his small patch of land.
However, accustod to a peaceful life, it was hard to plunge into a real adventure.
Pan Hao found his cigarette had gone out, lit it again, his hand holding the lighter trembling.
"Hey, at an age of senility, yet still dreaming of adventures, adventures."
But he had to act according to the dream sent by the Saint.
He looked again at the snake-skin bag, emitting an ominous aura.
He touched the ancestral dagger tucked at his waist.
Whispered a command, "Hit!"
The dagger flew out, knocked down a leaf outside the window, then spun around and flew back.
"It seems I, Old Pan, still have a sharp blade that can be put to use."
After washing for over twenty minutes, cleaning off the dirt on her body, she ca downstairs wearing a Feng Ling T-shirt.
The girl was actually quite pretty, about 1.6 ters tall, not very tall, with fair and delicate skin, and shiny hair, though slightly frail and with a small chest, hardly different from an airport runway... But overall, she looked good.
"Have so tea first, we’ll eat later. Don’t be scared, my granddaughter is about your age," Old Pan tried to put on a kind smile.
"That... Uncle." Feng Ling bit her lip, having thought a lot during her bath, she couldn’t help asking, "Do you have any powerful organizations around here..."
"How powerful do you want? Am I powerful enough?" Pan Hao wielded the ancestral dagger, making it dance in the air.
The old man had been killed by strange beings hundreds of tis.
"That might not be enough..."
Feng Ling’s eyes shone slightly, with a white light flickering from her pupils, Pan Hao’s head spun montarily, and the airborne ancestral dagger clanged as it fell to the ground.
Pan Hao was startled—this woman was indeed the combative type!
He cleared his throat and said, "I am indeed just a low-level underling. And our world is also ho to many powerful organizations."
"But I have to avoid them because I need to keep a secret... I don’t really want to deal with them."
"Finding them isn’t difficult, though."
Pan Hao picked up a banana, peeled it, and ate it. "First, you need to tell what happened. If you don’t say anything, I can’t help you."
Feng Ling fell silent for a mont, then uttered two words, "Sothing... Sothing has invaded our world. I need help."
"Cough, cough, cough!" Pan Hao coughed violently, his face turning red, almost choking on the banana. It took him a while to recover.
He wasn’t sure if the "Demon God" from the otherworldly realm was what he thought, but either way, the news was shocking enough.
"I thought it was sothing else."
Pan Hao frowned, "To start with the ’Demon God’... Other than a Saint, who could possibly help you handle this? And what bargaining chips do you have to make these major organizations sacrifice countless lives to save your world? Relying on what’s in your snake-skin bag?"
"I-I-I..." Feng Ling stuttered nervously, her cheeks slightly flushed, her muscles tensed.
She opened her snake-skin bag, and a large pile of leather shoes fell out.
"What is this..."
Pan Hao, experienced as he was, noticed at a glance that these shoes were just street stall goods with no supernatural elents. "A few dozen bucks a pair, I guess. Or are they sold singly? They wouldn’t even sell."
"Eh? Wait a minute."
These shoes were oddly interesting. They varied in styles for both n and won. It was unclear what their use was.
A red high-heel shoe fell out.
"Oh? This is interesting... Don’t know what it does, but it certainly contains so eerie elent."
Then a large chunk of a broken box fell out, weighing about 20 kilograms. This thing was heavy.
"Mithril? Good Lord, with so much mithril in one bag, where did you get all this?" Pan Hao exclaid, his face showing shock. "You didn’t steal from the vault of so major country, did you? Does your world produce mithril?"
"If so, that’s really a significant interest!"
Mithril sells in the supernatural world’s black market by the gram, costing about a million US Dollars per gram.
Real nobility uses mithril and Refined Gold as ornants, wearing them on their bodies. Rarity increases value—these supernatural elents are true luxury items, far more precious than any gemstone.
So, starting with 20 kilograms of mithril, could it be worth billions?
The more Pan Hao thought about it, the more his scalp tingled.
If this young lady truly becos an international criminal, old Pan wouldn’t be able to protect her!
The interest involved was enormous, especially since this world possessed Divination, Prophecy, and other miraculous abilities. If one were willing to pay the cost, finding a wanted criminal would be easy.
Feng Ling’s face flushed slightly and she quickly said, "No, no, no, it’s not stolen! It’s... it’s a product of distortion, I found it!"
"Distortion... You an anomalies, right? In our world, we call those ’anomalies.’"
Pan Hao breathed a slight sigh of relief, then looked at the box pieces and the tadpole script on it, picking up a magnifying glass to examine it for a long ti.
He couldn’t understand it—completely unaware of which country’s language it was.
After the Blood Demon incident, Pan Hao no longer engaged in tomb raiding, focusing on "antiques" instead, and naturally having so involvent with Strange Objects, he was quite knowledgeable.
But this tadpole script was unheard of...
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