Ermao walked unevenly to the street lamp, looked around, and realized that he was less than 300 meters away from the hotel.
It was a wasteland here—actually, someone had bought it but hadn't developed it yet. Ermao was very aware of this.
Setting up a private court here or engaging in some shady business indeed wouldn't draw much attention.
He checked the time and saw it was just 1 AM. He made a call to a trusted underling, asking him to go to his room and bring some clothes over.
In the underworld, sometimes you don't need to care about appearances, but certainly not when you've been beaten black and blue. Obviously, in such a state, you can't let yourself be seen.
The underling arrived quickly, and even though the distance was less than 300 meters, he actually drove over in a van, which was quite thoughtful.
But the underling was stunned by the sight of Ermao's condition. "Bro Mao, what happened?" he asked.
