"Damn Trenton Smith, how did you become this ghostly appearance."
The president walked to the mirror, took a white handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped the wound.
"Fortunately, with Shadow Kims' assistance, otherwise I might have really capsized in the gutter."
He wiped lightly, only to find that the bloodstain couldn't be wiped off no matter what.
"This is truly strange."
The president turned around, walked to the table, picked up a teacup, and poured the tea onto the handkerchief.
Returning to the mirror, he wiped again.
The handkerchief was slightly yellowed.
That was the color of the tea.
When wiped on the wound, no trace of blood at all!
This made no sense at all.
He stood in front of the mirror, observing for a long while.
Not sure if it was an illusion, the wound seemed to have grown a bit longer than before.
"What's going on?" The president gently touched it with his hand, feeling no pain at all.
The wound seemed to have lost sensation.
