Old Man sat back down in front of the bookshelf, carefully wiping dust off an antique with a white soft cloth. Hearing this, he turned around with a beaming smile: “Of course you can, but I can’t keep it for long either. Don’t think what I said earlier was to rush you—someone really does want to buy this item. There are still three weeks left until the reserved date.”

“Three weeks…” George Miller frowned. “Alright, I’ll see if I can scrape together the money. What’s the lowest price you can give me?”

“Since you’re a student, I’ll give it to you for five thousand. That’s absolutely the lowest I can go.” Old Man adjusted his glasses.

“I won’t haggle with you now, we’ll talk about it later.” George Miller didn’t say more. He took one last look at the bronze cross medal, forced himself to put it back on the table, then walked over to Old Man’s desk. “My name is George Miller. May I ask the owner’s name?”

“You can just call me Old Man Evans. What do you want to ask? If it’s a sensitive question, I won’t answer for free~~”

“I’d like to ask, where did you acquire that medal?” George Miller asked with a frown.

Old Man thought for a moment. “That I can tell you, but…” He smiled and held out his hand.

George Miller looked speechlessly at his bony, outstretched hand, fished a ten-yuan bill from his pocket, and placed it on the palm.

“Stingy…” Old Man muttered, pocketing the money. “That place is a dilapidated old castle, in the countryside more than sixty miles from Huai’an City. The original owner was a viscount, but with each generation things got worse. Now they only have a baronet title, and they haven’t been able to maintain the castle for many years. Most of the things inside have been sold off over the years, almost everything has been cleaned out. If it weren’t so run-down and in such a bad location, the castle itself would probably have been sold long ago. As for the castle’s name… I think it’s Silver Veil Castle.”

“Silver Veil Castle. Could you draw me a detailed map?”

Old Man smiled and held out his hand again.

“Damn!” George Miller couldn’t help cursing, then pulled out another ten-yuan bill from his pocket and slapped it down. “Hurry up!”

“No problem!” Old Man pocketed the bill, quickly pulled out a pale yellow sheet of paper from under the table, dipped a white quill in ink, and with a few swift strokes, sketched a simple map, then handed it over.

Taking the map, George Miller glanced over it. “Thank you for your trouble. Wait for my news.”

Without waiting for Old Man to reply, he rolled up the map and strode out of the antique shop.

After walking some distance down the street, he reached into his now-empty pocket, feeling a sense of despair. “Forget about buying the medal—even just going to see this Silver Veil Castle, the travel expenses alone will be fifty or sixty… And now I’ve spent all my allowance for next week too.”

As he walked, George Miller kept calculating in his mind how he could come up with five thousand yuan. He had a vague feeling that the bronze cross medal was covered by something, preventing him from fully accessing it and absorbing all its potential. To completely absorb it, he’d have to grind off the outer layer and see what was really hiding the potential inside. But unless he bought it and polished it himself, just looking and touching wouldn’t do any good.

He glanced at the faint red data at the bottom of his vision. The potential stat had just broken through to 101% during that time, and a cool stream of energy lingered in his mind, ready to be added to any attribute at any time.

“No rush. I stood there for so long and only absorbed a little potential. If I want to get any attribute from the bronze cross medal, I’d have to stand there for at least half a day. Old Man Evans is so stingy, he’d never allow that.” George Miller recalculated the total potential of the bronze cross medal and found it had at least five points, which made him even more excited.

“I’ll save up money while coming here every day to absorb potential. Bit by bit, I refuse to believe I can’t absorb it all!” he resolved to himself.

When he reached the entrance to Pennington Street again, George Miller looked up at the place where his uncle’s house was.

Just then, the arched window there was open, and a chubby middle-aged man was standing at the window looking down. “Is that George Miller?” The man’s face was quite ordinary, but his eyebrows were thick and black, giving an impression of strength and determination. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. Come on up!”

George Miller hadn’t expected to see his uncle in person and could only nod, passing under the stone pillars and entering the half-open wooden door to the stairwell.

Entering from the stairwell, he found himself in a spacious hall with a black carpet on the floor and a white stone angel statue in the center, wings spread as if about to take flight.

George Miller entered from the left staircase, jogged past a few people ahead of him, and soon arrived at the red metal door on the left side of the fifth floor.

Knock, knock, knock.

He reached out and knocked.

Immediately, with a click, the door opened. Uncle Thomas Evans, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, stood at the door. “Come in quickly, the fireplace is still burning.”

“Oh.” George Miller entered, changed into slippers, and followed his uncle into the inner room.

The room was covered in pale yellow wallpaper, with oil paintings hanging one after another on the walls—most were either his uncle’s own work or that of his wife, William Carter.

A few minutes later, George Miller stood by the window, listening as his uncle chatted with a bearded guest about the recent major events in the city.