The small auction of the Black Market in Golden Bamboo Mountain was coming to an end. After auctioning off the last few pills, the auction was about to end.
"The auction this time is a little boring. I came all the way here and thought that there would be some new treasures."
A sloppy old man scratched his exposed belly in boredom. The old man's long hair was covered with weeds and hung loosely on his body. His face was ashen, as if he had just crawled out of a mud pit. He was also holding a large oily gourd in his hand. Every time he tilted the gourd to his mouth, a large amount of wine would gush out of the gourd.
It was as if his gourd could never be filled. No matter how much he drank, it was always full.
He had taken up quite a few seats by himself, but no one dared to come over and care about him. Seeing that there was only one item left in the auction, and it was about to be sold, some people had already left quietly.