It was late at night, in South City of Yujing.
At the entrance of a private club, a grand lotus-shaped fountain was adorned with floating lotus leaves.
Instead of traditional stone lions, two white horses stood vigil at the gate.
Inside a serene and elegant private room, a luxurious crystal chandelier was illuminated by a rather common lotus lamp, its candles burning softly.
At this moment, Xiong Qianxing lay sprawled on a large round table, surrounded by eight skulls placed at different positions, each connected to a wick with a flame the size of a mung bean.
The eight skulls seemed to be biting into Xiong Qianxing, continuously drawing out the yin wind and turbid air from his body, transforming them into lamp fuel for the flames.
"Brother Shan, will this be sufficient?" Ming Chenxuan glanced at the man seated on the top of the sofa, unable to resist asking.
