Meng Bai looked around their lodgings and found them to be oppressively bare.
There were only four so-called beds, which were nothing more than stiff, straw-filled mattresses unceremoniously thrown onto the floor. The air was thick with the scent of stale wood and damp stone, as if the room had been long abandoned, left to decay in isolation. There were no tables, no chairs—only a single, crude floor table, barely large enough to hold a tray of cups. The walls were cold, featureless stone, unyielding and lifeless.
There were no windows. No decorations. No means of escape.
The only source of light came from the eerie glow of the monitoring array embedded in the ceiling, its shifting runes pulsating with an unspoken menace. It wasn't just watching them—it was studying them, judging their every move.
