The noise in the yard ebbed and flowed.
Pan Wendi and Fatty Hu, Xu Hao, and others were playing finger-guessing games and drinking, their voices raised high.
The girls at Bai Ling's table were also gathered together, chatting and laughing, forming their own circle.
In this lively atmosphere, the main table in the corner seemed particularly quiet.
As if immersed in another mysterious and unknown world.
Fang Cheng leaned back in his chair, looking deeply at the Professor, his face thoughtful.
Lin Chuqiao sat beside him, holding her juice cup with interest, listening keenly.
Li Dingjian and Xiao Shuai were equally holding their breath, ears open, afraid of missing a single word.
The Professor took a sip of wine to moisten his throat, and continued to narrate the mysterious Southern Ocean past to those at the table.
"At that time, I felt something was wrong. We, a group of mercenaries who lick blood off the blade, have an instinctive alertness to danger."
