"This Demon Material..."
Facing An Jing's proposal, Iron Hand's expression was solemn, "It's produced by a demon creature at the peak of Qi Refining... Moreover."
His prosthetic eye moved, examining the details of the Scale Armor that An Jing had taken out: "This is a juvenile demon—at least, it's material from an undeveloped juvenile demon."
"In other words, if it fully matures, this demon could grow to a level comparable to a cultivator at the Immortal Foundation stage..."
As he said this, Iron Hand couldn't help but take out a cigarette, light it up, and take a deep drag, "An Xuan... are you really planning to entrust material of this caliber to me?"
"I don't have other channels."
An Jing appeared unconcerned: "And since Huo Qing says you have channels, I naturally trust him."
"Indeed, I do."
Exhaling a puff of smoke, his prosthetic eye's red light flickered, Iron Hand was still conflicted, his voice grave, "I just don't understand why you would trust me."
