"Honorable Knight, welcome to Hill Village."
"Knight?"
Ning Fan lowered his head and glanced at the Battle Armor on his body, then looked toward the one who had spoken.
It was an old man holding a wooden staff.
His face was full of wrinkles, his body dry and skinny like a withered corpse of flesh and blood.
Only his eyes were vivid; in those cloudy eyeballs flickered a light called wisdom.
When the old man spoke, he drew everyone's attention.
"Probably the village chief or someone like that."
Thinking of this, Ning Fan nodded with a smile and said, "Hello, sir."
"Lord Knight, you are far too courteous."
The old man seemed as if he didn't dare accept such a grand courtesy, looking down in panic, and because of his advanced age, his body was trembling.
If not for the people supporting him on both sides, he would likely have already fallen to the ground.
But noticing the calm in the old man's eyes, Ning Fan knew it was only an act. "Elder, there's no need to be so polite."
