Han Jintong's Crisis

At Jinbai Hotel, Shanghai's Hong District. It was a hotel that was barely three-stars. Having an average occupancy rate and mediocre business and with only a few guests staying there.

Han Jintong's complexion was pale like a sheet, and a bloodstain painted the corner of his mouth. Scars could be seen all over his body as he sat in the corner of the room on the seventh floor, stitching his wounds. Four or five meters from him, a bruised Caucasian woman with blond hair and wearing a tattered robe was also covered with blood.

"Please leave, Professor!"

The Caucasian woman had scarlet pupils and a pair of hands with sharp nails as her white hands gently stroked a concave bronze mirror she took from her left chest.