His portly belly strained against his soiled, floral-patterned shirt, while his face was covered in a tangle of white whiskers like tangled electrical wires. His sparse hair, barely enough to count on one hand, failed to conceal his shiny scalp. Coupled with his textbook-perfect beer gut, this short, stout old man's first impression wasn't exactly charming.,“Ten boxes With our store's traffic, do you want to sell until 2009, old man This is a 1982 Dadamir, and this is a 1999 Silu. You're being arrogant!”,The shop door and the nearest shelves were smashed to pieces! Blood, splintered wood, and broken merchandise were flying around in the small shop. The muffled blast echoed for a long time.。