The conversation went much more smoothly after that. Standing in the scorching sand wasn't the best place to talk, so Xu Huo and his companions followed Mr. Chi and his people back to the small town, heading down into their underground dwelling.
To call it a dwelling was generous—they were really just dug-out holes. Xu Huo had noticed this before; there weren't many people, and counting Xiao Lai and the two players who came later, there were a total of sixteen.
"We don't have much to offer you here." Mr. Chi invited Xu Huo and his group to sit on small stools, and the man in the mask poured each of them half a cup of water.
"That water is ours," Qiu Ming muttered.
"I wonder if the three of you think a hundred thousand White Notes is a lot." Mr. Chi suddenly asked an unrelated question.
To players, a hundred thousand White Notes was hardly a fortune.
"How about five hundred thousand?" Mr. Chi continued.
