Duan Rong moved like a phantom in the pitch-black night, twisting and turning rapidly through the alleys.
Amidst the howling night wind, Duan Rong stopped at the gate of a courtyard.
This was Yang Zhen's home, a place he had visited countless times, almost always ending up drunk with Yang Zhen.
Duan Rong tightened his grip on the wine jar in his arms; today, he intended to get drunk with Yang Zhen once more.
With a thought, Duan Rong abruptly extended his Divine Sense, passing through the courtyard and into the room!
Yang Zhen was in the bedroom but remained awake, an oil lamp on the cabinet by the bedside burning.
The dim light cast Yang Zhen's anxious and heavy face, as he paced back and forth in the cramped bedroom.
Duan Rong retracted his Divine Sense but did not knock on the door. His figure leaped over the wall like a large bird, landing lightly in the courtyard.
