At the foot of the Profound Yellow Sect mountain.
Dung Beetle was squatting alone at the Mountain Gate, surrounded by all the stuff he'd hauled here.
The stove couldn't be brought down, so he could only pile up a new stove right here at the foot of the mountain.
This kind of skill was a piece of cake for him.
The Construction Team players who saw this all started joking around.
"Dung Beetle, are you seriously planning to stew shit for fun?"
"Can you move a bit further away? Our Construction Team can't hold up against this kind of torment, man."
"We're all on the same side, why the inter-clan slaughter?"
"Woc, what the hell is in that jar? Put it away! The smell's too damn strong!"
"..."
Dung Beetle ignored them and picked up the jar at his side.
The moment the lid came off, an overpowering stench shot out instantly.
This kind of stink was super unique—not like the Toilet smell, but a kind of indescribable funk.
