"Blackflame Weapon Company. I mentioned it before."
Mu Fan gazed calmly ahead at the figure drawing ever closer, then tipped more fiery liquor down his throat, letting the sharp burn sear his throat and sting his eyes.
Seven days of decadence, seven days of rushing about.
It was not that the time had been too long, but that it had been too short.
In the cold, silent hall of Shadow Island, Mu Fan had stared at the ceiling countless times and questioned himself countless times.
Now, whenever he opened or closed his eyes, scenes from Capital Star flashed through his mind.
Like photographs replaying in his mind, one after another...
Two Sky Communicator calls.
Two voices.
After that, Mu Fan had traveled through the stars, worn down by the road, and learned to savor strong liquor.
It was not the drunken oblivion of numbing his mind with alcohol, but using the fiercest heat to stimulate his nerves and make him forget all exhaustion.
The aftereffects of burning his blood had made Mu Fan's features grow increasingly mature.
As for whether it would cost him five years or ten years of his life, so what?
Mu Fan watched the amber liquid sloshing in the bottle, grinned, and drained it in one gulp.
"What kind of joke is this? Where are we supposed to find a way to sell arms?" In the apartment piled with cigarette butts, White Hair's hand twitched, and he tore open his collar. Yet his eyes remained vicious as he casually threw the ripped cloth onto the floor.
"Whatever. Since you've brought it up, we'll sell them! This kind of business sounds exciting. This is the fucking life this handsome guy wants! From now on, I'll walk around with the title of major arms dealer over my head.