In the alley, only Han Yuchen remained.
And a warm "corpse."
Kill him?
Tsk, killing him outright would be far too wasteful.
A living Soul King-level believer was far more useful than a corpse.
Perhaps he could use him later to play a game of "information asymmetry" with Madame Hong.
Heh.
A malicious thought flashed through Han Yuchen's mind.
Hehehe!!!
With a thought.
[Dimensional Space] silently opened a tiny rift.
The black-robed man on the ground, along with his tattered, filth-stained robe, seemed to be seized by an invisible hand and silently dragged into the rift.
He was thrown into that "Living Prison," where the flow of time was nearly frozen.
Done.
Next, clean up the scene.
With a flick of his fingertip, the sparse moisture in the air began to condense wildly.
Splash—
A stream of clear water appeared out of nowhere, washing the ground spotless.
Not even a trace of blood smell remained.
A perfect crime scene.
Even Sherlock Holmes would have to offer him a cigarette and call him a professional.
Han Yuchen nodded in satisfaction, straightened the collar of clothes that had not been the slightest bit disheveled, and leisurely slipped both hands back into his pockets.
He slowly strolled back to the Night Owl Tavern.
His posture made it seem as though he had merely gone out to use the toilet.
When he pushed open the dilapidated wooden door that creaked its protest, the wind chimes above it jingled.
Behind the bar, the goateed owner's eyelid suddenly twitched.
He looked at Han Yuchen as if he had seen a ghost.
What, did you think I wouldn't come back?
Who are you looking down on?
Han Yuchen walked straight to the bar and lightly tapped the counter with his knuckles.
Knock, knock.
The sound was not