Grey leaned back in his chair, his half-lidded eyes reflecting the faint glow of lantern light that filled the dim bar. Though his posture seemed idle, every fiber of his being was quietly alert. The dull chatter, the occasional clinking of glasses, and the thick scent of fermented spirit mixed with wood smoke — all of it painted a crude yet familiar picture of mortal indulgence.
As Grey leaned back on his chair and pretended to eavedrop, he secretly counted the number of people in the bar and their levels of cultivation. After a steady count, he found out that the number of people in the bar was exactly twenty-one. With the addition of the bar-tender and waitresses who floated from table to table with tired smiles.
Among them, only a few possessed a discernible aura. The rest were ordinary folk who were either drunkards, merchants, or petty thugs who fancied themselves brave after a few cups.
