In the early morning, the merchant woke up from bed, habitually glanced out of the window, and his face suddenly turned to terror.
Right below the Inn of Delight, there were about a dozen Jianghu martial artists in yellow robes performing an extremely twisted, bizarre "dance" that made one's skin crawl just by looking at it.
"Jing Lin! Jing Lin!"
"What's the matter, Dad?" The young merchant immediately came out from the partition, seeing his father with the look of someone just awakened, and asked in confusion,
"Dad, did you have a nightmare?"
"No, downstairs…" The old merchant pointed to the people in yellow robes "practicing their dance" below, their cloaks writhing like tentacles and limbs extending at inconceivable angles, as if a horde of demons were cavorting.
"Ah, that, they are doing their morning practice!" Jing Lin glanced through the window and said as if it were a matter of course:
