In the hallway, two or three dozen people had gathered. Despite being in deep autumn, these people were either shirtless or wore tank tops, all tattooed with dragons and tigers, their faces fierce.
Especially the man at the head of the pack, who was in his thirties, standing close to six feet tall and with the build of a grizzly bear—it looked like he was gearing up for a fight.
At a single glance, you can tell that these weren't good people. To be precise, they were the gang type, and certainly not those bottom-dwelling hooligans or ruffians—they were big shots in the underworld.
So, as the guy at the front cursed and roared, no one dared to retaliate.
