[The following content is a discarded draft.
Apologies]
"Have you got brain damage?"
An old man in a green robe, white hair flowing, sat quietly cross-legged on the meditation cushion, his cold gaze falling on the little Daoist standing there respectfully.
The little Daoist hurriedly said, "Master, that Yang Family patriarch is willing to hand over his entire fortune, as long as you're willing to take him as your Disciple."
The Yang Family.
Lord of Changsha City.
Wealth piled mountain-high, money that could never be counted to the end.
And the Yang Family patriarch's entire fortune had to be at least a hundred-something thousand taels of silver.
One hundred taels of silver is enough for an ordinary person to live out a prosperous lifetime, while a hundred-something thousand taels of silver is something ordinary people wouldn't dare dream of, even in their wildest dreams.
