With a whoosh, Miao Mu fell from the sky. With a bang, he crashed onto a pile of wooden crates.
"Ah... I... Aaaah..."
The fall nearly killed Miao Mu. If he had not held his breath, the Time Grandfather Clock on his back alone would have crushed him into pulp, the kind where no one could recognize him.
Still, not drowning was a good thing.
Miao Mu struggled to crawl up from the ground. His clothes had been pierced by splintered boards, while the Nth Metal-woven cloak he wore underneath had now become a layer of soft armor, protecting his body.
He pulled out his flask and, without caring about anything else, poured it straight down his throat. After two gulps, the pain in his body eased considerably.
Before Miao Mu could catch his breath, the crates in front of him collapsed. More than a dozen submachine guns were aimed squarely at his head, their dark muzzles utterly unreasonable.
"Um, may I ask where this is?"
Miao Mu raised both hands and lay flat on the ground, calling out toward them.
From his angle, it was daytime outside. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, landing right on the backs of the armed people. They stood in the light, yet he could not make out their faces.
"What man came running in here? Don't you know whose turf this is?" A woman with a somewhat shrill voice approached, a cane in one hand and a cigar clenched between her teeth.
Miao Mu blinked. He was not used to the glare in front of him, and it obscured his vision, but it was already much better that the people opposite him were human rather than some bizarre creatures.
"I, I'm..." Miao Mu paused. That was hard to explain. He did not even