A Death Trap

This foreign place was like a medieval fortress. A huge white-stoned city was in its core, while squat houses and worn-down tents lined its perimeter. The sky was gloomy, and in this sparse, cloudy land, the streets were crowded with people selling craft, alcohol, or themselves.

Pallid, white faces were all over the city, their eyes betraying a sense of wretchedness. Everyone wore tattered clothing and were malnourished, with many giving off a very pungent smell. It was unknown when was the last time they had a shower.

The bald man led the tall and short pair toward the huge city. Xia Fei quietly followed behind them; there were presently plenty of eyes around, and his combat suit stood out like a sore thumb, so with some quick thinking, he quickly darted into an old and graying tent beside the road.