Huayue Building, drink alone, not drunk.

Xie Junhe hadn't drunk Huayuelou's wine for many years, and he had forgotten the spicy richness of the old wine, so much so that when he took the first sip, he almost choked on the strong burning of his throat and eyes.

He also promised Chu Tao not to drink indiscriminately, but when the intensity of the nose spread, it was difficult to resist the desire to get drunk. It doesn't matter if he borrows wine to drown his sorrows, or that he would rather get drunk, in this life, I really don't know when he will be able to get rid of the wine jar.

The wine is fragrant and mellow, and the smell of blood hidden in the air is also quietly brewed in it, blending the taste of wine that only exists in the rivers and lakes.

Xie Junhe glanced around with the corner of his eye, and on the left and right sides and behind him, a number of men in coarse cloth shirts sat quietly ten steps away. These people arrived at the store one after another, each ordering a drink, and they seemed to know each other, but there was a very subtle connection between them: they conveyed the message silently with their eyebrows or knuckles.

Laugh. Who doesn't know? Qin Ye Qi Ye was chatting with Chu Tao. Who cares about the outside world? At this time, the people who can care so much about him are undoubtedly blood ghosts. The old enemy, those unfamiliar faces, but with a very familiar demeanor: sitting quietly, even breathing smoothly so that people can't notice it, and the lowered countenance—so low-key that it seems to be just a background in this restaurant. But when this low-key cloak was suddenly torn by the blood, there was only a dizzying thrill in front of him.

Strangely, women with the fragrance of fat powder on their faces shuttled in and out of the banquet, and gently floated away, soliciting their business. Everything in the rivers and lakes seems to be strange in their eyes. Demon and force are so strangely intertwined, not interfering with each other, but also merging with each other. This reminded him of the smile that had once been plain and beautiful, revealing in the corner, her graceful and quiet elegance soaked in the air.

However, Xie Junhe was convinced that no one dared to trouble him at this time.

Sure enough, the eyes of the blood ghosts did not fall on him, but instead stared at a strangely dressed merchant.

The merchant was dressed as a Westerner, with a pheasant tail, a brocade head, and leather coats and boots. The sturdy head is like a copper tripod. He ordered a large plate of beef, a large bowl of noodles and a few plates of vegetarian dishes, and a leather bag of wine—no matter how you look at it, it weighs the weight of three or four people.

However, before eating and drinking, he put aside the chopsticks handed over by Xiao Er, groped around from the baggage, and took out a pair of shiny silver chopsticks. After trying all the dishes with silver chopsticks, a reassuring smile appeared on the merchant's face.

Feast.

Suddenly, a man wearing a copper mask and a green cloth shirt appeared outside the door, and walked in calmly. The bronze mask was carved with a terrifying beast face, and the bloody mouth and fangs were lifelike, making people take the initiative to retreat. The man silently approached the merchant, and the blood ghosts around him, who were still drinking tea just now, all stopped all their movements at this moment.

The man froze three tables away from the man, glancing out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, as if he had discovered something, he flashed straight behind the girls who greeted him, and turned away by the barrier of the human wall.

But when he saw the leather-clothed merchant look up, he smiled and was surprised as if he had seen an acquaintance, and raised his eyes to look.

Suddenly, a cold light came from the private room upstairs, swooping like thunder and lightning. No exclamations were heard. It's just that the bulky body suddenly slammed into the table, and it didn't move without a struggle. A throwing knife had already pierced through his throat. In his hand, he didn't have time to put down the silver chopsticks.