Jin City's streets lay empty in the rainy night. The black Ford rolled through puddles, splashing up two fan-shaped curtains of water.
Once the car turned into the French Concession, the roads changed at once.
The gravel road became smooth asphalt, and the streetlamps gave way to neatly arranged electric lights, one every twenty paces, each blooming into a milky-white halo through the rain.
These days, the Concession's environment was better than the Chinese District's by more than just a little.
Forget the wealthy—even small merchants with a little money to their names would squeeze through a crack in the wall if it meant getting a house in the Concession.
Wang Zhonghe was no exception. His home was in the French Concession.
The Ford stopped across from a detached Western-style house.
Chen Mo leaned against the driver's seat and looked through the window at the little red-brick building across the street.
It was a standard detached house in the French Concession, two stories with an attic. Creeping ivy covered half the red-brick walls.
The front door was an ornate cast-iron gate, with a brass lamp hanging from the porch.
The courtyard wall was not high. Rose vines climbed the iron fencing, all of it maintained with exquisite care.
Thick curtains covered the first-floor windows, while all three windows on the second floor were dark, showing no sign of activity inside.
With a thought from Chen Mo, his divine sense silently spread outward.
In the east-side annex on the first floor, a particularly conspicuous surge of vigorous blood and qi pulsed. Its aura was long and deep, heavy as lead.
It was completely different from the fragmented currents of ordinary people.
Copper skin and iron bones.
His brows twitched slightly.
That driver who had reached the Copper Skin Realm was actually