The black market street in Sin City exists almost like a taboo, darker even than crime itself. The people living on this street are all representatives of nastiness, and there's a canvas tent at the far end—the only peculiar building here. Its white has long faded to yellow, yet it seems sturdy. The individuals entering and exiting here don't appear friendly, with some even shouting about something.
Behind Xiao Lin followed the injured Consort Ling, perhaps with a mental connection. He sensed the crow's impatience, even a hint of irritability, and this aura emanated from the tent.
"This is the place." Consort Ling stopped in surprise, though he said nothing, Xiao Lin understood his surprise. "The crow is here, right?"
Consort Ling nodded. "Troy said the doctor here can cure that guy."
