Demon Port.
East Main Street.
Inside an imposing residence with an old-fashioned elegance, a middle-aged man dressed like an old-school gentleman smoked a cigar gracefully and spoke to the woman on the sofa beside him:
"The Cold Clothes Festival is almost here. Why aren't you going back to prepare? What are you doing here?"
The hall was very warm.
Yet the area near the woman radiated a bone-chilling cold.
The woman wore a hooded robe.
She wore a mask over her face.
The skin exposed outside it was a bronze color, somewhat like the tan some people deliberately developed under the sun. But there was no sun in the Nether Sea, nor was there one in the underworld.
There was only the surface of the Supernatural World.
Though there was no sun, certain places still carried the heat and feel of sunlight.
"His Grace has recovered most of the way."
The woman turned her head and glanced at the man, showing no obvious emotion. "He plans to visit Demon Port and fulfill the agreement he made with that important figure eight years ago."
"An agreement?"
"And then?"
The man raised his brows and said with some amusement:
"What does he want to do?"
"Demon Port is the forbidden preserve of all the Top Factions in the underworld. The only surface organization is Tianyu Ancient Village. But they are not easy to provoke. Although they have no Half-God, they do not fear Half-Gods either."
"The gentleman behind you."
"I admit he is formidable, but colliding with all those factions would be nothing more than throwing an egg at a rock."
There were two small holes in the woman's mask.
They happened to reveal her utterly indifferent eyes.
She turned her gaze toward the lavishly decorated reception room, then toward the exquisite