“Let me worry about the money, young master. I’ve already lived for over seventy years; living a few more or a few less doesn’t matter much. But you’re different, young master—you’re still young. No matter what, you must go on living.”

Henry Clark felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the old man’s silhouette in the lamplight, at that head of gray and white hair, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry.

For so many years, Uncle Harris had always been by his side. He’d grown so used to his care that Henry Clark had forgotten just how old he really was.

“Uncle Harris, I won’t allow you to say things like that. No matter what, we’ll get through this. Trust me!”

Henry Clark grasped the old man’s hand and spoke solemnly.

The old butler smiled, nodded, and looked utterly gratified.

After seeing the old butler off, Henry Clark clenched his fists tightly. “When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll straighten itself out. I refuse to believe that money can really kill a man!”

Chapter 7: Crisis Approaches

Night had fallen deep. Henry Clark carefully checked the doors and windows several times, making sure no one was outside before he began to examine his own body.

Too many strange things had happened that night; Henry Clark needed to thoroughly check himself.

“My breathing is strong, heart and lungs are normal, hands and feet are as usual, and I don’t feel any discomfort.”

Henry Clark moved his limbs around—everything was normal.

“My stamina has greatly increased, at least double what it was before. The intervals between breaths are much longer, and I seem to have grown a bit taller…”

Under the lamplight, Henry Clark threw a few punches. There was no technique to it—he was simply testing his strength.

“Judging by the results, at least… sixth level of breathing!”

Henry Clark stopped, stunned, listening to his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest.

He’d already sensed something during his bout with David Clark, but now that it was confirmed, he couldn’t help but feel excited, his heart racing.

Henry Clark quietly closed his eyes. Though he couldn’t see anything, he felt as if a massive “iceberg” had appeared before him, and what he was seeing now was just its “tip.”

After a moment, Henry Clark continued his examination.

He undid his clothes, and finally understood what he’d been feeling earlier.

“My skin…”

Henry Clark lowered his head, staring at his body in shock.

All over his body, his skin was cracked and peeling, like the bark of an old tree. Henry Clark hadn’t been mistaken—what he’d torn off earlier was indeed a piece of his own shed skin.

Beneath the old, rough skin, patches of smooth, white, and delicate new skin were emerging—that was Henry Clark’s newly regenerated skin.

“What on earth is going on?”

Henry Clark stood there, dumbfounded. He even noticed that the calluses on his hand from years of holding a pen had all fallen off. Now, he looked like a pampered young master with soft, delicate skin.

A complete transformation!

Henry Clark had heard of such things before—legend had it that consuming certain rare and precious treasures could have this effect, fundamentally improving a person’s constitution in a short time, causing changes that would normally take years.

But he hadn’t consumed anything like that, had he?

Henry Clark quickly ran through the day’s events in his mind, but came up empty.

There are no changes without reason—Henry Clark knew in his heart that there must be something he’d overlooked.

“Could it be… Billy Clark?!”

Suddenly, Henry Clark’s eyelid twitched as he remembered something.

He recalled that before leaving, he’d picked up a stone from Billy Clark’s stall.

According to Billy Clark, it was a “meteorite” that had fallen from the sky, which he was selling on the street for a tael of silver—and got beaten up for it.

Henry Clark hadn’t really believed it, but thinking it over, aside from that so-called “meteorite” from Billy Clark, there was nothing else unusual.

“Could it… have been true?”

Henry Clark looked incredulous.

His heart skipped a beat and he hurriedly reached into his clothes, but found nothing—his chest was empty, the stone had vanished without a trace, leaving only some broken fragments.

Henry Clark could still feel the lingering heat on them.

“What exactly happened?”

Henry Clark was dumbfounded.

He thought for a long time before finally calming down.

No matter what had happened, some things were certain. That stone couldn’t have disappeared for no reason, and the lingering heat on the fragments definitely wasn’t caused by his body temperature.

There was no doubt—the key was that “stone” he’d gotten from Billy Clark. Or, as Billy Clark had called it, “star iron.”

“No wonder Billy Clark was acting so out of character. Turns out he wasn’t selling a stone at all—he was selling fallen star iron for a tael of silver. That’s actually cheap… How ridiculous that we all thought he was lying, when he was the only one who saw things clearly. We really failed to recognize a treasure when it was right in front of us!”

Thinking back on it all, Henry Clark couldn’t help but feel his face flush with embarrassment.