Chen Ji examined the thirteen or fourteen-year-old teenager in front of him.
The teenager's tiger's mouth had thick calluses and closely twisted scars, clearly the hands of someone who has wielded a knife for years, enduring the force of combat until his grip split.
A two-foot-long short knife hung at the teen's waist, he wore straw sandals, his cheeks were windburned to a reddish-purple, and his eyes were full of unstoppable cleverness.
When people passed by the two, they would smile and greet the teenager: "Ah Sheng, you're back?"
Ah Sheng would tirelessly respond to each person: "Hello, Brother Zhang Qi."
The teenager seemed to be like a little tree sprouting from Chongli Pass, with a vigorous and abundant vitality.
Ah Sheng turned to Chen Ji: "Sir, you're really not buying military merits? Young Master Li and Mr. Wang at the Thousand Households of Xuan Zuo Mansion are waiting to buy military merits too. If you don't want them, I'll ask them."
