Bang! Bang! Bang!
The rhythmic sound of hammering echoed in the mountain cave, uninterrupted, as muscular men with bare upper bodies struck iron blocks. Sweat dripped from their skin, yet not a single one dared slack off.
Because beside them, black-clad martial artists with cold, indifferent gazes were watching like hawks.
Anyone who dared show signs of laziness or carelessness was immediately met with a vicious whip strike. A whip drenched in saltwater was enough to teach them the true meaning of pain, leaving their skin torn and flesh exposed.
"Work harder for me!"
"If I don't see 300 sets of heavy armor within six months, watch out for your heads!"
"Meet the quota, and I promise you'll return home safe!"
A cold voice rang out in the cave. A burly man dressed in green paced continuously, his sharp, hawk-like eyes scanning every corner as his cropped mustache trembled faintly.
It was none other than Leng Yun, Wind Hall Master of the Black Sand Gang.
