The faces of the trio of subordinates changed as they rose up quickly, while Damon raised his eyebrows in surprise, alarm forming in his heart, but he suppressed it to remain calm. Looking to his right, he saw a withered and bony old man with sun-beaten skin, a bald head, and a long white beard in rags seated there, eyeing 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 taste, 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.
