Could This Be the Eighteenth Level of Hell?

Perhaps the pressure was too great; no one felt like speaking.

In the silence, the elevator rose floor by floor.

After the display passed the eighteenth floor, the elevator suddenly stopped, and the number on the screen turned into a garbled mess.

Then the elevator plunged downward.

It was so fast, like a high-speed train hurtling off a cliff.

Caught off guard, everyone entered a state of weightlessness.

Fortunately, they were either nonhuman or burly men, and quickly adapted.

"We're still dropping after the eighteenth floor. Don't tell me we're heading to the eighteen levels of hell?"

Liu Zheng made a reasonable connection.

Suddenly, a piercing screech of steel cables scraping rang out, and the elevator came to an abrupt stop.

"Bleurgh—"

The combined stimulation of weightlessness and inertia made several less hardy technicians gag.

"If you throw up in the elevator, this old man will be very angry."

An elderly yet vigorous voice came through the loudspeaker.

"You may rest assured. We in the Massage Department aren't that weak."

As the highest-ranking person present, Six Circles stepped forward to respond.

With him having said that, the few people who wanted to vomit could only cover their mouths and swallow the erupting contents back down.

"Tsk."

Smelling the subtle scent in the air, Liu Zheng felt both regretful and relieved.

He regretted that if they had thrown up, he could have smeared the vomit all over himself.

He was relieved that his bottom line had been preserved for the moment.

"The Massage Department nowadays is far inferior to what it used to be. The last batch who came didn't even move a muscle."

The old man continued mocking them.

"We're the Massage Department, not an acrobatics troupe. What matters is our massage skills."

Six Circles retorted.

"Then this old man