"Okay, Mom!" Hua Bao was just about to extend the Vine to cover the short man's mouth, nose, and limbs when the "creaking" sound was heard, and the elevator came down.
Jiang Yan heard it too, "Don't make a move yet."
"Alright." Hua Bao quickly retracted the Vine.
"Clang—" The steel plate stopped in midair, ten centimeters above the floor level, and two men, each holding a submachine gun, stepped off, one after the other.
"Little Boss."
"Little Boss."
"I'm here." The short man gave the two a glance, then bent over to take out a rectangular, flat box from a locked metal container nearby.
The corner he was in, aside from having an oil drum, also had a brazier with a weak charcoal fire.
On top of the brazier was a tripod, and on it a soup pot with a lid, its sides blackened by heavy smoke.
White, dense vapor was continuously spilling out from the gaps in the lid.
"Mhm." The two tall men nodded and stood obediently to the side.
