Sanchahe Village was lit up as brightly as if it were daylight. On Zhang Bin's instructions, the factory electrician had strung up electrical cables and installed more than a dozen large light bulbs on the big banyan tree.
Clearly, Zhang Bin knew that tonight would not be peaceful, and the villagers felt the same way. Some were deeply worried, afraid that Zhang Bin couldn't withstand an attack from the Daoyi Sect. Others were excited, eagerly waiting to watch the show, blissfully unaware of the situation's gravity. A few villagers even worshiped Zhang Bin blindly, convinced he was the world's greatest expert. To them, the Daoyi Sect was nothing. If it were, Zhang Bin would never have acted this way.
Fei Yiming was still hanging under the banyan tree, covered in bird droppings. The stench was so foul he had vomited several times, spitting up nothing but bitter bile.
