145 Old Man Zito at the Village Entrance
From the beginning to the end, Braydon Neal did not have the desire to open the coffin.
King Braydon of this generation had his own noble and virtuous nature.
If Braydon wanted wealth or treasures, with his power and status, he could get anything he wanted!
That was why Braydon would never open a coffin and disturb a dead heroâs soul to search through his burial objects.
He was the Northern King, not a grave robber!
It was the same for Westley Hader. As one of the three sons of the north and the current governor, he had no interest in the tomb ownerâs things.
Before Tristan Yandell left, he told the Preston team to move all the porcelain in the stone room outside and bring them back to the Neal familyâs place.
If these things were not taken away, those martial artists would still think about the things here.
At that time, the tomb ownerâs coffin would definitely be opened up by others.
That was why in clearing out the place, outsiders would believe that all the valuable items in the tomb had been taken away by the Preston team, and that there was nothing else they wanted.
Now that the matter in the ancient tomb of the Preston mountains was over, it was time for Westley to leave.
âBrother, take care!â He said softly.
âThere are many hidden elites in the capital. You should also be careful. If you have any difficulties, just look for me. Those ten ruthless guys in the north probably miss you too!â
Braydon watched his younger brother leave.
âOkay, brother! Iâll go to the northern territory to find them when I have time!â Westley walked away and waved his hand.
The two of them had only spent time together for a short while, but they had no choice.
Westley had the responsibility of governor. He was usually cold, emotionless, and aloof. It was already not easy for him to take a day off to come here.
However, Braydon did not leave the Preston mountains. He took out a document and threw it to Tristan, saying indifferently, âItâs time to find him!â
The third person, Searle Lambert!
It was time for the former top dog of Quill to find this person.
âI know where the old man is hiding,â Tristan laughed. âIâll take you there now.â
The two of them walked together and disappeared into the vast Preston mountains.
In a village far away from Preston, built with its back against the Preston mountains, the entire village had the surname Zito, hence its name Big Zito village.
Of course, there was also the Small Zito village, which was only three to five miles away from here.
The two villages had the same roots.
The person Braydon was looking for was in Small Zito village.
A village in the countryside did not mean that it was backward.
Small Zito village was backed by the Preston mountains. In recent years, tourism had developed. The people in the city had nothing to do and wanted to go into the wild for fun.
And Preston mountains were undoubtedly the most suitable area.
As a result, all the villages and towns along the periphery of the Preston mountains benefited from this. They opened small inns, and the villagers would act as guides for tourists.
Before the tourists entered the mountain, they had to rest in the village. They had to spend money on food and drink.
Therefore, all the villages had made a lot of money in the past few years. Every family had a small bungalow and small cars.
At the entrance of Small Zito village, a straight asphalt road was built to reach the various houses in the village.
Many tourists were coming in and out, all of whom were planning to go to the Preston mountains to play.
Braydon arrived at the village entrance.
A simple and honest old man with a pipe in his mouth was smoking, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. His old face with orange skin was smiling like a chrysanthemum.
âHey kid, youâre from the city, arenât you?â he asked in a central plainsâ dialect.
âWho are you calling a kid? If you say that again, Iâll chop you up!â Tristan stared at him.
Braydon raised his hand, signaling him to shut up. He smiled, âYou can say that Iâm from the city. Are you local?â
âThatâs right, Iâve been living here for more than half of my life!â The honest old man grinned. He was missing a front tooth, so his pronunciation was not all that accurate.
Tristan frowned. âOld man, I want to ask you about someone. Do you know this person in the photo?â
It was a three-inch photo. It was Searle Lambert from ten years ago.
At that time, Searle Lambert was the leader of the dark division in the provincial capital of Quill. He was definitely a figure of power.
The honest old man squinted his eyes. âIâve seen him before. Of course, I have. Why are you looking for him?â
âWe have our reasons of course!â
âWhere is he?â Tristan asked.
âI canât tell you that. I think youâre here with bad intentions. We arenât friends, so why should I tell you?â The honest grandpa was right.
Those who could live in this village were all fellow villagers. Who would help an outsider for no reason?
Tristanâs face turned black. He realized that this old guy was a little hard to deal with.
âTell me, how much do you want? Is two thousand enough?â he said grumpily.
A stack of cash appeared in Tristanâs hand.
The simple and honest old man took the stack of cash without hesitation. With his fingers covered in saliva, he began to count seriously in front of them. He even checked the notes meticulously for fear of receiving fake money.
The veins on Tristanâs forehead popped out. If the Northern King was not here, he really wanted to kill this old hooligan.
He was the governor of the capitalâs garrison, even though he was only a deputy.
...
He was a big shot, so why would he scam an old man of a mere two thousand?
âHurry up!â Tristan said, âWhere is he?â
âIâll take the money, but I canât tell you about the person!â The simple and honest grandpa was all smiles.
âWhat?â Tristan was enraged. âOld man, you dare to trick me?â
âYoung man, donât be so angry. Itâs your moral obligation to respect the elderly and love the young.â
The honest old man put the money in his pocket and smoked his pipe.
Tristan was so angry that he took a step forward and put his hand on the old manâs shoulder.
Whoosh!
This grandpa was not as simple as he looked.
The simple and honest old man was like a slippery fish, naturally avoiding Tristanâs grasp.
Tristan was a level nine War-God level figure.
...
This old man was not someone simple!
Braydonâs eyes were calm. He realized that he was not an ordinary person.
The central plains was a land of hidden elites. As for how many martial artists were hidden among the people, even Westley could not determine the exact figure.
Just like this old man. If you had not seen it with your own eyes, who would have known that he was an ancient martial arts practitioner?
âNo wonder you dare to scam me! Youâre a martial artist!â Tristan was amused.
âThereâs no rule saying that youâre the only one allowed to practice martial arts.â
The simple old man was a slippery one. He took Tristanâs money and still had an infuriating look on his face.
There was no way Tristan would take this sitting down!
Whoosh!
Tristan unsheathed his black sword and said angrily, âDamn old man, Iâll chop you up!â
âF*ck!â
The honest old man was shocked and immediately exploded, âThis is a cold sword?â
âYou recognize this sword?â Tristan took out his sword and attacked.
The simple old man was obviously not an ordinary person. His lean body was like a fish, and he was actually able to dodge Tristanâs attack.
Just this ability to dodge proved that the old man was not only a martial artist, but probably even a War God.
However, Tristan did not kill him. A level nine War God using his full strength against an old man was much too embarrassing.
The old man was shameless.
He, Tristan Yandell, was the deputy governor of the garrison of the capital. He was also a person who cared about his face!
Only then did the simple and honest old man seriously sized up Tristanâs identity and saw the flying fish image on his clothes.
He was shocked!
A black robe with a silver-threaded flying fish emblem was the standard governorâs robe.
It was one of the three great governors!
The simple and honest old man Zito put his hand on the back of his neck and called out, âYouâre a big shot in the capital, a deputy governor with a high position, yet youâre bullying an old man from a good family. It wonât be nice if word gets out, right?â