The door hinges of the "Warm Inn" emitted a teeth-grating creak, as if both welcoming and warning.

Lin Feng and his group of five stepped into the lobby.

The first thing that caught their eye was the dim lighting—a chandelier covered in cobwebs hung in the center of the lobby, casting a ghastly yellow light that barely illuminated a space of less than thirty square meters.

The lobby's furnishings were old: a faded carpet, a cracked leather sofa, a coffee table with fake flowers, and most prominently, a counter directly facing the entrance.