During the day, the sky hung low and sullen, with heavy clouds that seemed ready to burst at any moment.
Snowflakes fell sporadically into the old streets and alleys.
"This is the place."
Tian Xiaohu's injury had not healed, and he walked with a noticeable limp.
After winding through several alleys, he led Shen Qing to the entrance of a hall.
Shen Qing looked around and saw a heavy black iron door partly ajar, with two dim lanterns hanging above the lintel.
The sky had yet to darken, so the lanterns above the lintel remained unlit, quietly swaying in the wind.
Compared to the old streets, the Hei Zhao Gang's hall was exceptionally lively.
Even standing outside, Shen Qing could hear the noise and commotion within.
He pushed the door open, and the interior was brightly lit, with large red lanterns hanging high, filling the space with a sense of celebration and prosperity.
Without hesitation, Shen Qing stepped inside.
