The elderly receptionist scholar dipped his fresh quill into the black ink, his spectacles practically pressed against his ledger as he began evaluating the shining silver tokens resting on the velvet tray. He picked them up one by one, sorting them into precise categories with the practiced speed of a man who had handled millions of cultivation materials.
"Let's see the breakdown," the old man mumbled, his voice echoing clearly through the quiet valuation zone as he read the standard bounty rates aloud. "For regular scouts, fifty low-grade stones each... For warrior monkeys, twelve hundred low-grade stones apiece... For the Monkey Commanders, fifteen thousand low-grade stones for each set of lower fangs... And for the four fangs of a peak-stage Troop Leader, a flat fifty thousand low-grade stones."
The scholar's fingers flew across his wooden abacus, the hard wooden beads clacking furiously in the silent hall.
