The speaker was an old man, well past fifty, upon whom the years had left their deep marks.
His salt-and-pepper hair was sparsely scattered across his scalp,
like a desolate field in winter.
Yet, this couldn't hide the sharp glint that shone from his cloudy eyes.
His gaze was as piercing as a hawk's.
The old man's body bobbed slightly up and down as he walked, each step taken with some difficulty.
It was clear he had a problem with his legs.
Perhaps the ravages of time had eroded his joints, impeding his movement.
As he slowly approached,
all the villagers of Xia Shui Village looked at him with a mixture of reverence and awe.
Their gazes were filled with respect and fear,
as if this old man were a god in their hearts.
Just from the villagers' reactions,
it was clear that the old man held an extremely high status in the village.
He was like the soul of the village, in control of everything.
