The three said no more and hurried along through the shadows.
Soon, at the end of a row of wooden shacks that were nearly collapsing, they saw an inconspicuous little door.
Two burly, sharp-eyed men stood guard before it.
Simply standing there was enough to intimidate; the faint yet vigorous blood qi emanating from them showed that both were ranked martial artists!
Uncle Zhang was clearly a regular. Without a word, he stepped forward, took out three taels of broken silver, and handed it over.
One of the burly men took the silver and weighed it in his hand, his cold gaze sweeping across the three masks.
He especially lingered for a moment on Fang Yuan, whose figure was upright and whose aura was restrained, before warning in a deep voice:
"You know the rules, right? No fighting inside. Ruin anyone's business, and you bear the consequences yourselves. Once you step out that door, payment and goods are settled.
Whether you profit or lose, whether it is real or fake, each leaves it to fate!"
Wang Pangzi hurriedly replied, "We know the rules. Don't worry."
Only then did the man wave his hand. With a creak, the other pushed open the seemingly inconspicuous wooden door.
Behind the door was not the bustling scene they had imagined, but merely an utterly ordinary house, sparsely furnished and dimly lit.
Beneath a window on one side of the room sat another martial artist with a formidable aura, standing guard.
When he saw them enter, he did not even raise his head. He merely pushed open the window with practiced ease, revealing the pitch-black night outside.
Seeing Fang Yuan scan the room warily, Wang Pangzi explained, "Junior Brother, let's go. Only by leaving through here do we truly reach the place."
With that, he