The room, no longer pristine white, fell into a lengthy silence.
In this situation, Fu Qian didn't rush to speak but instead placed the enormous turkey head on the bed and quietly waited, watching the direction of the mirror.
On his wrists and ankles were gruesome lacerations, the result of struggling against his restraints, blood streaming shockingly.
Of course, these wounds had in fact come from his own doing.
Even for visual effect, he had purposely suppressed his healing ability.
I'm not here to kill today, but to engage in an academic discussion.
However, it was clear that Zetian on the other side needed some time to process the shock.
Considering I've already mentioned his name, I believe he won't leave, thought Fu Qian.
Crack!
Several minutes later, the turkey brother's corpse finally ceased convulsing, and the door was opened once again, with a stern-faced Zetian walking in.