The message window popped up to all the users in the Versailles Continent.
Weed swiftly approached the gate, and the black vortex swirled as if it were going to eat him up. However, Smith hurriedly shook his hands.
“Hey.” “What?”
“In order to solve my request, won’t I also have to follow?” “Of course.”
Weed desperately wanted to leave Smith behind, but he had to take him.
“I have a condition. If I go in there, you have to make it so I can drink five bottles of liquor every day.”