The scholar seated cross-legged on the chair, his cheeks faintly flushed, turned his head to look out the window and snorted coldly.
"Red powdered skeletons."
"As a sword cultivator, no matter how many red powdered skeletons I see, only my sword remains firm."
Chen Qiu grabbed a peanut and tossed it into his mouth, drained the cup of wine in his hand, and then, propping his cheek with his hand, he swept his gaze over the seven or eight girls, one after another, before waving his hand dismissively.
"Bring in another group."
"Alright."
...
Soon, the old madam led in another string of girls, one by one.
"How about this time?"
"..."
Chen Qiu, with an expressionless face, took out a few spirit stones from his bosom and threw them over, "Isn't this the same damn group from before? You think changing clothes fools me? Bring some top-tier girls with some clout."