The trio of subordinates immediately rose to their feet, their expressions shifting in alarm. Damon's brows lifted in surprise, a flicker of unease sparking in his chest, but he quickly forced himself to stay calm. Turning to his right, he found a withered, bony old man seated there, his skin weathered by the sun, bald head gleaming, and a long white beard spilling over his tattered robes. The old man's eyes were fixed hungrily on the pot of rice.
The old man licked his lips and, with no trace of shame or concern for the tension thickening in the air, he reached forward and began plucking slices of duck straight from Damon's plate with the easy rhythm of a starving crow.
"Mmm! Tender, soft, just enough ginger. You have capable retainers, young man. That's good. Very good." He praised endlessly, almost swallowing his own tongue from enjoyment.
"Who are you?" Chen Yuan asked warily, already moving subtly to Damon's side.
