"Good morning, everyone."
Under the eternal night sky, at the highest point of Spring City, atop a skyscraper overflowing with massive amounts of Mutated Spirit, someone pushed the door open.
With the usual smile and polite greeting:
"How was your rest yesterday?"
The small fish in the tank swam quietly; the withered old monk sat cross-legged in the corner, silent; the girl, lost in the night scene, looked down with a half-smile; the old craftsman in grey closed his eyes to rest, oblivious to the world; only the middle-aged man standing before the huge window, overlooking the surging Flame Light, looked over and furrowed his brows.
"Hmm?"
Lu Changsheng smiled puzzlingly and entered boldly, sitting on his own chair, "It seems everyone is not in a good mood."
The old monk of Wulou Temple raised his head, lips moving, revealing endless scriptures weaving through his teeth, stitching into the flesh like fine threads, his voice muddled:
