Once they entered the underground fortress, which resembled a pressure cooker, the routes became exceptionally complex. Even the intelligence Su Ming had obtained from the previous dead man's mind did not cover every path within.
The Yongjia People operated through division of labor, with each person responsible for only a limited area. On top of that, the fortress was extraordinarily vast. Imagine hollowing out the Moon and turning its interior into a maze—that was what this place was like.
But the Colonel's ability was truly useful. Every Thursday, like Werewolves on the night of a full moon, the Old Man gained countless unimaginable abilities.
Unlocking doors through language was merely an appetizer. He had not even shown his true skills yet.
"I've noticed that the Old Man seems to have gotten younger. Is that just my imagination?" Bobo stroked his furry chin and tilted his head. "Look at the way he strides along. What use does that cane even have?"
Indeed, just as the gorilla had said, although Colonel Sanders sold fried chicken, he walked with such force that he somehow carried the air of a righteous outlaw. Whenever he encountered a door, he simply declared that he was making a delivery. Every door, whether physical, force-field, laser, or energy barrier, gave him that courtesy and opened on the spot.
"That's called British gentleman style. You're a gorilla shorter than a cane, so of course you wouldn't understand."
Su Ming walked at the rear of the group, making sure no one was ambushed or surrounded from behind. Hearing that, he replied with a smile:
"Back in the Victorian Era, London's streets had terrible sanitation and terrible public safety. True gentlemen liked to carry a walking stick when they went out. When there was nothing else to do, they could use