The script mentions that the Misty Mountain Forest was developed into a gold mine twenty years ago, a time long enough for many gold diggers to strike it rich. However, now the Misty Mountain Forest is barely visited, clearly not a prime location for gold mining.
In this situation, did Duncan really come to the Misty Mountain Forest with people and equipment?
Duncan looked at Yan Chuan with great interest.
The delicate and beautiful Asian innkeeper had her eyes downcast since the travelers began harassing her. Even upon hearing crude remarks, she only furrowed her delicate brows and hid behind her young, brash employee.
She seemed timid, but when the gunfire rang out, she didn’t scream; instead, she widened her eyes in shock.
It was as if she knew a bloody incident would follow, silent and still like a fragile beauty lamp.
“What are you thinking?” Duncan stepped forward, stopping in front of the beautiful Asian woman, and asked politely, “Are you still afraid?”
Suddenly, a shadow fell upon her as Ash grabbed Yan Chuan’s forearm, forcing him to look up.
He was compelled to meet Duncan’s sea blue eyes.
They were deep and azure, yet unfathomable.
Yan Chuan silently turned his face away.
“Uh…” The beautiful Asian woman bit her lip and responded softly.
Emerging from behind the employee, the seemingly fragile innkeeper nodded to indicate her fear.
There was no attempt to mask it; her gesture simply indicated she was fearful, a clear sign of submission.
Duncan raised an eyebrow.
In the face of a lady’s panic, a proper gentleman clearly needed to take action.
So, Duncan extended his hand.
“Alright,” the handsome man with blue eyes acted like an exceptionally courteous gentleman as he said to the frightened Asian woman, “Go back and get some sleep. I promise everything will be resolved by the time you wake up.”
“If you need something to help you sleep,” he clasped his hands, “I have a bottle of rum that you can have.”
Yan Chuan shook his head.
His voice was weak, and he pressed his lips together to refuse Duncan’s offer, reiterating his earlier statement to Vincent, “I don’t drink.”
Neither the beer Vincent offered him nor the rum Duncan spoke of was appealing.
The innkeeper merely lowered her eyes to glance at the somewhat messy lobby, focusing on the bloodstained carpet.
Duncan noticed where his gaze fell and immediately said,
“Double the rent; everything that’s damaged will be included in that.” Duncan clapped his hands, and his subordinate promptly withdrew a bulging leather pouch.
“There are some refined gold bars inside,” he joked, “of course, you can also take whatever Vincent brought out as compensation.”
“I don’t need to drink.”
The subordinate opened the bag to reveal heavy, golden bars.
Scattered on the floor were the gold pieces Vincent had taken out, all neatly arranged on the table.
No one added fuel to the fire; the flame in the fireplace had diminished somewhat.
The gas lamps lit up, illuminating the heavy gold bars lined up on the table.
The refined gold bars shone brightly, exuding a unique metallic cold glow. They were thick and golden, resembling flowing honey, with grayish shadows brushed along the edges.
It was a hefty sum, enough to cover a year’s operational costs of the inn.
Yan Chuan looked at the table.
He simply assessed how much wealth Duncan held, casually taking out.
Then he shook his head again.
“No need for double,” the Asian innkeeper pointed to the section of the carpet that was missing, “the carpet was purchased from the nearest town. After the rain stops, you can buy one to replace it.”
“Also,” Yan Chuan locked eyes with Duncan and said, “the inn does not involve itself in travelers’ disputes, and we do not wish for any more ‘accidents’ to happen.”
Having rejected Duncan’s suggestion for double compensation, the delicate and beautiful young Asian woman stated that all they needed compensation for was the soiled carpet.
After being refused multiple times, Duncan pulled at the corner of his mouth and unexpectedly said, “Alright.”
The beautiful Asian innkeeper cared more about her carpet than the gold that could fetch a high price.
Not only was she unafraid, but she also made it clear that any “accidents” were unwelcome here.
Duncan couldn’t help but focus his gaze back on the Asian innkeeper.
He squinted slightly, his gaze turning from scrutiny to curiosity.
His eyes swept across the young innkeeper’s delicate and elegant face, pausing momentarily on her glossy, black eyes, and suddenly, Duncan smiled.
“Okay, we’ll get the carpet after the rain stops,” he spoke poetically, much more relaxed than before, “we will drive to buy a new one.”
Yan Chuan nodded, falling silent.
Duncan did not mention the “accident” he referenced, but he did not look like someone who would suddenly shoot again.
Yan Chuan believed that Duncan shooting and killing one of the gold diggers was meant to warn Vincent.
He didn’t know what conflict existed between them, but for now, this conflict seemed unrelated to the other guests in the inn.
With Yan Chuan not speaking, Duncan maintained his silence as well.
The young police officer who had been blocked stood watch, wary of Duncan’s subordinates, and was prevented from continuing forward, cautious of any intention to draw his gun.
Ash was unlikely to say anything either; this strong, young employee was loyal and silent, obedient to the innkeeper.
The atmosphere fell into a brief silence.
Until the wooden stairs creaked.
Someone was coming down.
The footsteps were soft but particularly clear in the quiet lobby.
Everyone present instinctively diverted their gaze.
Descending the stairs was a young man wearing a gray coat.
Tall and slender, with black curly hair and light brown eyes. A pair of single-lens glasses rested on his prominent nose, with a fine golden chain dangling down to his chin.
He was handsome, exuding a gentle aura, with furrowed brows that hinted at an academic demeanor as if he were deeply focused on something.