In the dark, dilapidated club, there were only Han Fei, a drop of blood and a blind old man standing face to face, one wielding a Rebirth Saber with the Ghost Pattern activated, as if facing a great enemy; the other holding a broken radio, expressionless, as if he hadn't noticed Han Fei at all.
After a standoff, Han Fei waved his hand in front of the old man, and seeing that the old man still didn't react, he tried to ask, "Old man, are you still recruiting newcomers here? I want to join you."
Upon hearing Han Fei's voice, the old man's eyebrows slightly lifted, he reached out to tidy his messy white hair, and his lips slowly opened.
Perhaps because he hadn't spoken for a long time, his lips seemed glued together, tearing as he opened his mouth, with dark red blood flowing out.
"Speak up, my ears are not very good, I can't hear clearly."
The old man's voice was distinctive, as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat, making every speech seem torturous for him.
