In Sea City.
In a modest neighborhood, Mo Qianchi, who had already been drained of his wealth by Liu Sanming, sat woodenly in a shabby old house.
This was the only property Liu Sanming had left for him.
To give him a place to live.
But at this moment, there were two other people standing beside Mo Qianchi.
The two appeared to be about his age, with even more gray hair, and they wore simple casual clothes, looking like two retired elderly men.
"Qianchi, don't you recognize us?"
"Qianchi, stop pretending, get up!"
"Eh? Really no reaction at all, no wonder he didn't greet us when he saw us in the neighborhood earlier."
After muttering for a while, the two finally confirmed that there was something wrong with Mo Qianchi.
Soon, each of them held a magical artifact in their hands.
The elderly man on the left held a bell covered in blue-green rust.
The elderly man on the right had a thirty-centimeter-long peachwood sword, inscribed with six Daoist words.
