Mr. Mingyuan was indeed talented at tempting fate; his back was covered in flags, and several swords hung precariously above his head as he swaggered into the sinister den.
But from another perspective, there was an inexplicable sense of security when one stayed close to Mr. Mingyuan.
Jiuyue felt a whirlwind of emotions following behind him.
She knew that Duan Mingyuan was not the type to bluster and boast without basis. His words earlier were probably meant to give the two newcomers confidence, to save them from feeling too much pressure.
What a considerate person!
The decay inside the hotel intensified, and a faint musty smell wafted through the air. There was only one staff member, a receptionist with a gloomy complexion and heavy dark circles under her eyes, dozing off behind the counter, indifferent to the guests.
The safety of the stairs was doubtful; a creaking noise could be heard as soon as they stepped on them.
