Xu Wendong pushed open the wooden door of the tavern, and the scene inside immediately came into view. The light was dim, a few oil lamps flickering, casting mottled shadows on the walls and some scattered wooden tables.
The air was filled with a faint aroma of wine mixed with a barely noticeable hint of herbs, creating a unique atmosphere.
There weren't many patrons in the tavern. They each sipped their drinks quietly, occasionally exchanging a few whispered words.
When Xu Wendong opened the door, the few cultivators in the tavern all glanced at him simultaneously before continuing to drink and chat.
"What would you like to drink, sir?" An old man with a hunched back walked up with a smiling face. His hair and beard were entirely white, and his face was full of wrinkles.
His eyes were sunken but extremely deep, making it impossible to meet his gaze directly.
Of course.
This wasn't important.
The important thing was that Xu Wendong smelled a scent of death on him.
