The gunsmith's shop in the underground Black Market—the one that used to be covered in oil stains and reeked of cheap tobacco—was now completely transformed.
The smoke-scorched, blackened sign above the entrance was gone.
In its place hung a red sandalwood plaque, bare of any words, marked only by a single, simple sword slash.
The shop's interior was brand new, its walls painted a stark white.
The shelves, once laden with obsolete firearms, had been cleared away. All that remained was a large tea table made of Huanghuali wood, which looked priceless at a single glance.
A Zisha clay tea set sat in the center, steam gently curling from it.
Long Xiao sat in the host's seat. His tactical vest was gone, replaced by a well-tailored Tang suit with a subtle dark pattern. His hair was combed immaculately, and he expertly rolled two jade walnuts in his hands.
Seated across from him was a lone Martial Artist at the Enlightenment Realm Late Stage, nicknamed "Iron Hand."
