Right at this moment, the sound of a small commotion came from the doorway. Zhang Chengling held the bun in his mouth, turned his head to look over in that direction, and was stunned along with the rest of the people in the inn.

He saw ten-odd women enter the inn; each and every one of the women was dressed in black, looking like a flock of crows that had flown in together as one. He couldn’t tell their ages or see their faces either--because every one of them was wearing a mask that resembled those crudely-made faces of a smiling doll that one would buy at a street stall for children during festivities. However, apart from a smile, bloodstains hung on the corners of the lips of these tragically pale dolls too. With their wide eyes, they looked like little demons.

The person in the lead cast the stunned waiter a sidelong glance, and ordered coldly, “Serve a bowl of vegetarian noodles per head. If you take one more look, I’ll dig your eyes out!”

Her voice was rough and hoarse with an indescribable malevolence to it, and sounded like an elderly woman’s. One sweep of her gaze, and the people who were sneakily eying them lowered their heads immediately--this bunch of women did not look like the kindly sort, and, with much experience traversing the jianghu, no one wanted to attract trouble.

The black-clothed old lady who led them finally planted herself down domineeringly, gestured, and said, “Keep a close eye on that little bitch. We resume our journey immediately after we finish eating.”

The black-clothed women under her command did not waste any time on nonsense. Like they were well-trained, they followed suit and sat. Zhang Chengling only noticed at this moment that there was still an extremely dishevelled and unkempt young woman behind them, who was restrained by them and shoved over to where they were. He focused his eyes on her and was taken aback, thinking, Isn’t this Miss Gao, Hero Gao’s beloved daughter? How has she been captured by this bunch of people in black?  

That disheveled woman was none other than Gao Xiaolian, who had not noticed Zhang Chengling. The corner of her mouth was split, burning with a fiery pain, and she struggled vigorously. A burst of pain across her waist followed immediately after. Half her body went numb. One of the women who was restraining her by the shoulder retracted a long needle which had just been inserted into her waist, and spoke coldly next to her ear, “Which do you think is better: if I turn you into an invalid who won’t even be able to stand with a jab of the needle, or make a few cuts across your smooth, delicate face?”