In the Pharaoh's grand hall, among those who had survived up to this point, Zhang Heng was the strongest. He suddenly called out, his expression becoming grave. Not only the quick-reacting Lin Baici and Gu Qingqiu but even the intellectually challenged Xia Hongyao prepared for battle as if facing a formidable enemy.
People quickly followed Zhang Heng's gaze to the entrance of the grand hall.
A man in his thirties walked out. He wore a long yellow trench coat that reached his knees, and his feet were clad in a pair of clean, polished, British-style leather shoes.
His face was long with a somewhat pointy chin, which might not seem harmonious at first glance, but his long curly hair lent him a profound artistic air.
He looked every bit the protagonist of an art-house film.
With his left hand in his pocket and a cigarette in his right, he entered the hall with the demeanor of someone touring historical sites, looking around casually.
