Blue smoke shot straight into the sky.
Strange chanting rang out.
And this was the home of a Canal Gang leader.
All things considered, this was a truly intimidating place.
To ordinary people, it might well have been a real den of hell.
Aside from Boss Feng's trusted followers, even the other Canal Gang thugs were reluctant to come near. Boss Feng owned quite a few houses in Fukou, as well as fertile fields and large compounds in the countryside.
Lin Feng was puzzled.
Was this era abnormal, or was the Li Family abnormal? Why did he keep running into this kind of crap?
But then he remembered what the game was like—it kept gathering dangerous elements together to torment the player.
Lin Feng accepted it.
He would just call it the principle of supernatural convergence.
Once you became a supernatural element yourself, all the other supernatural particles would converge on you.
An excellent theory.
It explained a lot about why protagonists always encountered things other people never saw.
After all, this was a game.
He was the protagonist. Fair enough.
Lin Feng gazed at the sprawling compound, listening to the sounds coming from within.
They did not sound like sutra chanting.
Nor were they Daoist scriptures, Buddhist sutras, or even Sanskrit, Southern Min incantations, or any other dialect.
None of those.
This did not sound like language. It was more like something older, information that could be exchanged face-to-face without words: body language, vocal sounds, and certain innate animal instincts.
Whatever your skin color, whatever language family you had learned.
Some things were universal.
An angry face.
A forehead bulging with veins.
A face flushed by a surge of adrenaline, the precursor to an aggressive move.
Spittle flying in the heat of trading insults.
Piercing screams.
Cries of pleasure.