The next day, Lin Yuan patrolled as usual.
Walking to a secluded alley, the originally narrow street was cluttered with overturned night pots, and waste water was splashed everywhere, with no one to clean it up.
The scent of sweat, fish stench, and the foul odors of waste and urine relentlessly assaulted his nose.
The terrible environment made Lin Yuan frown heavily.
Wu Yangqing and Han Zhong held their noses, almost ready to vomit their dinner from the previous night.
"When we were here yesterday, although the environment was poor, it wasn't this chaotic. What's going on?" Despite the unbearable stench, Lin Yuan stepped forward.
From several small houses came the suppressed crying of women, sounding utterly tragic.
"Why are you not working during the day? What's going on?" Wu Yangqing followed him in, watching the helpless women cry, and couldn't help but shout.
