The old man didn't have any outstanding appearance. He was sitting on a bamboo chair. The chair would squeak whenever he moved casually. However, the bamboo chair was comfortable to sit on. The old man didn't want any furniture made of huanghuali, mahogany and nanmu. "It's all the same." That's what he said.
He took a puff of saliva, blew out several big smoke rings, and then exhaled a breath of white air, "Don't call me Sword Demon, I'm just an old man." He dropped his right hand on the mahogany lacquered table next to the bamboo chair, clasped his left hand on his right hand, and leaned over there, "Life is short, why do you need so much good furniture? ," He took a puff of cigarette and raised one hand. The old man lived in a mud house in the mountains. "The old man opposite is the sword demon. Go find him. I'm still cooking, so I don't have time to reply to you." Pointing to the stone house on the hill opposite, the old man was quite impatient.
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