The Li Family Fortress.
Deep into the night, the world was quiet. A biting cold wind swept through, interrupted only by the occasional barking of dogs and chirping of insects.
In front of the crimson pavilion, two distinctive Martial Artists stood. One robust and thickset, the other tall and lanky.
The tall, lanky Martial Artist glanced toward the distant pavilion and couldn't help but complain:
"Brother Feng, when is this miserable task ever going to end? Leaving the Black Sand Gang to babysit a shameless woman here—this damn winter night is driving me mad!"
The thickset Martial Artist, Brother Feng, slapped the top of his head and cursed with a laugh:
"You dumbass, always complaining. You think this is a hardship? You'd be shocked to know how many of the brothers in the gang fought over this job. You know Han Ye's temperament—he never skimps on rewarding his men. If we do this job well, won't we be eating lavishly and drinking richly under Han Ye's wing in the future?"
