"Follow me."
He turned and walked toward the most dilapidated thatched hut behind him. His pace wasn't fast, but each step was exceedingly steady. The hem of his ragged clothes brushed past the weeds without disturbing a single leaf.
Chu Fan followed slowly.
Inside the hut, Old Limp's movements were still unhurried as he rummaged through chests and cabinets.
He pulled out an ancient-looking black wooden box from under a pile of tattered cotton, his fingertips tracing a crack on its surface.
'A Demon Suppression Guard's Token, stuffed in this pile of junk?'
Chu Fan was stunned.
Even a common thief from the black market probably wouldn't bother giving this shabby hut a second glance.
Old Limp opened the wooden box. Inside lay a palm-sized Token.
The Token was jet-black, neither metal nor wood. Intricate cloud patterns were carved upon it, seeming to flow slowly in the dim light. A blank space was left in the center.
"Watch closely."
