Chapitre 685: A Small Matter

Another ten days passed, and it was now the end of July.

In a tropical and scenic island on the Caribbean, butterflies danced and bees roamed. There was lush vegetation but no venomous snakes or insects. It was a warm and pleasant scenic spot.

Occasionally, a few flies and mosquitoes would fly about. There would inevitably be something dampening the atmosphere.

In the past, this place was full of primitive scenery, but today, rows of exquisite wooden houses had been erected along the coast of the island.

The wooden doors faced the north and were arranged in the shape of a fan, as if saying 'come back to my arms'.

Four tall flagpoles were set up in front of the wooden houses, and a large word hung on the flagpoles respectively. Collectively, they read 'Magical Provenance'¹.