Night.
Wei Tianyang brewed a cup of coffee and sat in his usual chair, turning on the wall-mounted TV to watch the news.
He usually didn't watch the news because there wasn't much good news on it.
But tonight was different.
He wanted to know the situation in Fengrao City.
Baphomet lay on the spacious floor to the left side of the TV, carrying Yaha on its back, and ate egg tarts, bowing its head.
It wasn't interested in worldly matters, but it was quite interested in food.
Yaha's face was grim, a departure from her childish and naive past. Now in her thirties, her long hair touched the floor, and genetic defects had erased her gender identity, but no longer dressing in men's clothing and no longer acting extravagantly, her appearance was enough to arouse any man's desire.
Zhao Ling lay like a wooden mannequin abandoned in a clothing store, limbless and wrapped in bandages, lying on a soft cushion covered with a thin blanket, emotionlessly watching the TV.
