Six Flavors House was not much different from what he had imagined. Li Ziran had once assembled a new body shell on the table by the entrance. It was still sitting crookedly there, bloodstains lingering on the floor, the patterns on the table still old and worn, as though it had all happened yesterday.
This place seemed to have been forgotten by time. No matter how long passed, it seemed that nothing here would ever change.
There was still a faint layer of ash on the stairs. Clearly, the old man was lazy and rarely cleaned. Looking at the railing upstairs, it was incredibly old, so much so that one could imagine it collapsing with the slightest lean.
He had always felt that Six Flavors House was no simple establishment. Any force that could remain in Hippo Ancient City for two hundred years was beyond comparison with ordinary powers.
The years were a butcher's knife, capable of culling things without foundation cleanly away.
He liked these old things steeped in time, especially old factions. They understood how to grasp the proper measure.
Those loud, showy types always felt unreliable to him.
There was none of the prosperity he had imagined, nor any of the warmth. Not a single living creature seemed audible on the stairs. Perhaps he had changed body shells too frequently; even the old man had not come to receive him at once.
Yesterday, the place had been brimming with enthusiasm. Yet now that he had entered Six Flavors House, it was cold and deserted, nothing like a thriving shop located on Seventh Street in Hippo Ancient City.
Only after a long while did movement finally sound from the stairway. A figure slowly emerged from the doorway on the second floor.
It was the old man. Leaning on