The night gradually fell.
A bright moon hung in the night sky, its silvery light spilling over the sea, making the Beigang Port area of Nangang livelier than ever.
On the Fans' yacht, Fan Shi No. 1, guests continuously boarded, soon to partake in the evening's banquet at sea.
In a luxurious room on the seventh floor of Fan Shi No. 1.
In the center of the room, two glaring plum blossoms bloomed on the pristine white sheets.
Fan Qi's fiancée, Xu Meiling, and his younger sister, Fan Meilu, the two women lying on the comfortable bed, were devoid of any clothing. Deep wounds gashed their throats, from which warm fresh blood ceaselessly flowed out; the two women were obviously dead.
Zhan Lang, likewise naked, lay between the two women, holding a stemmed glass filled with a crimson liquid in his right hand, slowly savoring what he considered a delicacy.
This was Zhan Lang's unusual predilection.
