The vibrant nightlife made Mu Qingge feel an illusion upon first sight, as if she had returned to a past life, a world where day and night were indistinguishable.
A shadow smoothly avoided the slightly tipsy crowd and swiftly dashed into a large, tightly closed courtyard.
In the courtyard stood five hundred men in neat rows, each cloaked in black, concealing their forms and even their breaths. They faced a room lit by the faint glow of candles, with a breathtaking silhouette reflected on the window lattice, seemingly drinking alone under the moon.
The person who entered moved through the wall of people without hindrance, came to the front of the room, kneeled on one knee, right hand clenched into a fist touching the ground, and said in a deep voice, "My Lord, the subordinate has returned."
"Enter," a faint voice floated over, carrying a hint of coldness, yet with a touch of nonchalance and detachment.
