Even so, William Grant still felt that, in terms of internal martial arts cultivation, he was probably no match for the quiet and gentle young man before him.

The so-called “Three Flowers Gather at the Crown, Five Qi Return to the Origin” in internal martial arts must be referring to this kind of state, right?

Taoist classics also record: when primordial qi is fully cultivated, vitality is as vast as the sea.

Judging by his appearance, he’s only about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old—how could he have reached such a realm? Even if he were a prodigy practicing some peerless secret art, he’s still far too young.

Could it be that I’m seeing things?

Dozens of gazes turned at once, but David Harris seemed oblivious, facing William Grant with a gentle smile and a slight nod in greeting.

William Grant straightened up solemnly, also nodding slightly and inclining his body in return.

Everyone was shocked.

This old man’s gesture was not something just anyone could receive. Among the guests present, there were several billionaires and even a few renowned “Medicine Kings” of certain provinces, but in front of William Grant, all behaved with the utmost respect, observing the etiquette of juniors. At most, William Grant would exchange a few words with a smile—no one had ever been honored with such a bow.

Could this young man be some formidable figure with a powerful background? Perhaps even a scion of a prestigious family from the capital?

On the suspended corridor, Henry hurried over and whispered to Ethan Brooks, “Seventh Master, we couldn’t find anything…”

As he spoke, he watched Ethan Brooks’s expression, feeling extremely uneasy inside.

Having followed Seventh Master for so many years, Henry knew very well that this was not something he liked to hear.

“What do you mean, you couldn’t find anything?”

Ethan Brooks finally withdrew his gaze from David Harris and asked coldly.

Henry shuddered inwardly—he could tell that Seventh Master was indeed a bit angry. Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, he said, “Seventh Master, here’s the situation: on our guest list, there’s simply no record of the guests at table twenty-seven. We don’t know how they got in, nor who introduced them. I asked several floor managers, and none of them know either… This, this is really strange…”

As Henry spoke, he wiped his cold sweat again.

Ethan Brooks let out a cold laugh and said, “Henry, you’re getting more and more complacent, aren’t you? Can’t figure anything out anymore? Let me ask you: without an invitation, how did security let them in? Most importantly, who assigned them to table twenty-seven? The guests at table twenty-seven can’t possibly be nameless, right?”

Henry stammered, “Seventh Master, that’s why I said it’s strange. I checked—table twenty-seven was originally reserved for an old client from Tiannan. He called yesterday to say he’d be coming. I just contacted him, and he said something came up last minute and he can’t make it—he already called the hotel to notify them. But when I asked around, no one knew about this… I asked security how those two got in, and they just shook their heads, saying they didn’t know… It’s like everyone’s been bewitched… Seventh Master, could it really, really be something supernatural…”

At this point, Henry couldn’t help but shiver, glancing at the two young people—a man and a woman—in the hall, feeling a chill run through him and goosebumps all over.

Henry was very superstitious.

Overall, Qingyuan was also considered a “land beyond civilization,” with all sorts of strange rumors circulating among the people.

“Nonsense!”

Ethan Brooks glared at him darkly.

Henry shrank his neck, his face wrinkled like a bitter melon.

This really was damn strange. Two living people just walked in, and yet no one in the entire hotel knew where they came from or when they arrived.

“Should I have someone throw them out?”

Henry asked tentatively.

“Do you think it’s appropriate to do that now?”

Ethan Brooks retorted.

The trade fair had already officially begun. Some guests, according to their table numbers, handed over the medicinal materials they’d brought to William Grant for him to appraise their authenticity, quality, and age.

There was a reason for this.

Some guests weren’t entirely sure about the “goods” they had and, afraid of being duped, had traveled all the way to Qingyuan to seek Master Yin’s expert appraisal. But such guests were few; generally, anyone who could do business in medicinal materials at this scale was no rookie and had plenty of experience. Only with particularly valuable herbs, for the sake of caution, would they ask William Grant to help verify.

Most guests who brought their goods up for appraisal did so to build trust and facilitate the upcoming transactions.

William Grant only appraised—he did not quote prices or auction.

This was a rule set by Ethan Brooks for the trade fair: all transactions were to be completed between the guests themselves. The trade fair only charged a certain service fee. Ethan Brooks didn’t rely on this event to get rich; what he valued was the clientele. Not only would they eat and drink at Qingyuan Grand Hotel, but they’d also purchase medicinal materials from several major pharmacies actually controlled by Ethan Brooks.

Ethan Brooks didn’t bully the market or prevent guests from buying from other pharmacies—he played fair competition.

Edward Brooks was wealthy and powerful, controlling the largest pharmacies in Qingyuan City. Even with fair competition, others were no match for him. Why bother bullying the market and inciting public anger? Edward Brooks never intended to monopolize all the profits from the medicinal material business in Qingyuan City—that would be foolish. He’d take the lion’s share, but leave some scraps for others. That was only right.