Early in the morning, Durin got up. The blisters on his feet had been healed by Anta and the others' treatment, but he still didn't sleep well last night. With the power of example, the girls didn't treat Durin as a human.
Durin also didn't consider himself human. He lived more like a corporate slave from a 007 scenario, working intensely by day and night.
See, that's the beauty of Chinese; one word, the same creates or destroys, to create havoc.
As Durin thought of this, he was about to pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket when he saw a dwarf demon messenger in red brought in by Chief Ping.
"Young Mr. Durin, this is a messenger from the underground shelter of the Old Era."
