Making a mental note to ask his neighbours if they had seen or were familiar with the strange man who had walked by and given him the slip when they returned home later, Old Gao rubbed the hair on his head before turning around and heading back inside, closing the door behind him.
Staring at the stone slip on his table, Old Gao stared at it with anticipation and fear, as two voices battled in his head. On one hand, he worried that the slip was a trap of some sort. After all, there were all sorts of mystical techniques and treasures in the world, and even with his ever-increasing knowledge, Old Gao wouldn't dare to say he most of them, much less all of them. Who knew if there was a slip-shaped formation trigger or trap?
