Meanwhile, outside the deathly silent third-floor warehouse storeroom,
all the craftsmen who had rushed over were pale, trembling as they stood to the side, listening to footsteps that were slowly approaching, sweat drenching their backs, unable to stand steady.
In the silence, Jian Yuan, with hands clasped behind his back, strolled through the unrecognizable and chaotic storeroom.
Casually, he crushed a Mutant that was trying to crawl out of a broken box into a pool of pitch-black liquid, blowing out a wall, the trickling sound lingering in everyone's ears, like the sound of their own blood spilling on the ground.
Trembling, they couldn't find peace.
At last, Jian Yuan's gaze fell upon the wall where a line of hasty and thickly inked characters was written,
as if a greeting from a visitor.
"The master collects abundantly, elated beyond measure, and hence I pay a visit.
Coming with enthusiasm and leaving when it wanes, I leave a poem as a memento."
The poem stated:
