The vast, dilapidated factory was strewn with man-height gasoline drums. If a shot was fired, the entire factory would be engulfed in a destructive explosion.
Before Li Qiyu's eyes on a long table were various torture instruments...
Some were stained with blood, having already been explained to Ye Zhilu.
Only a few bodyguards were watching over Li Qiyu, dressed in uniforms resembling those of the Beitang family, but one could tell from the fabric's workmanship and texture that they were imitations. Besides, if they really were Beitang Feng's men, he wouldn't have been foolish enough to let his subordinates dress so conspicuously, as if they might as well wear a sign on their chest: "I am one of Beitang Feng's men."
These bodyguards spoke nastily and rudely, and their quality and cultivation were very low.
"Who are you..." Li Qiyu asked in pain, as she heard footsteps descending the iron stairs.