"Ah..."
Inside the tent.
Davion's heart-wrenching screams echoed.
The martial artists outside paused, their gazes shifting towards the tent.
"Oh my! Isn't the commander too cruel?"
"Such savagery!"
"Get back to your tasks! Enough chatter!"
The martial artists turned around and continued drinking and eating together.
Moments later.
Julius Reed emerged from the tent.
"Did you get the information?"
Dorian Cook stood in the woods, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
That melancholic vibe evoked the elegance of Shanghai women from a hundred years ago.
Amidst the decay, there was a trace of sorrow.
"Where did you get the cigarettes?"
Julius Reed stood beside her.
"Asked someone for them. Martial artists are people too." Dorian Cook handed Julius Reed one: "Want one?"
"Not interested."
Julius Reed gently pushed it away.
Smoking is harmful to health; it was clearly stated on the cigarette pack.
