"A stalk of spiritual grain, a piece of spiritual rock—is it expensive?"
"Expensive."
So expensive that even the elites of major sects couldn't afford it.
The key issue was that ten pounds of spiritual grain only cost one Source Stone; when had they ever sold it by the stalk?
Not to mention that from beginning to end, that goat, Old Jin, hadn't even thought of giving out Source Stones.
"One stalk of spiritual grain for one Source Stone," Old Jin's face turned cold.
The three big men who had already cut a large handful of spiritual grain in the field were now somewhat bewildered as they turned their heads.
"I thought someone from Nine Mysteries Dao understood the situation, turns out, he's an idiot." Old Jin gave a cold snort, lifted his hand, and with one stride, flung it towards Han Muye's head.
A faint blackish-green light shone from his palm, drawing in a gust of wind.