The moon reached its zenith.
Twenty li to the south of Peng Yue Mountain, within a strip of dense forest purposely left intact by a reclamation group.
A skinny old man with a grey robe and a goatee rested against a large tree, eyes closed in meditation.
After a long while, a faint sound of footsteps arose.
Under the shadowy moonlit trees, a figure wearing a white mask and a black cloak, holding a wooden box in his left hand, approached briskly.
The black cloak billowed, and the figure's eyes were cold and aloof, bearing down like a terrifying giant bat.
"Did you bring the White Jade?" Shang Huan, behind the mask, lowered his voice and spoke slowly, trying his best to sound calm, indifferent, and oppressive.
"Here, here!" The old man with the goatee hurriedly took out a bulging cloth bag from his sleeve and tossed it to Shang Huan.
Shang Huan caught it with his right hand, which was gloved in brown fur, and weighed it.
Clap!
