"Good news and... bad news?" Ji Minghuan muttered.
You could almost feel the chilling air within the imprisonment chamber; it felt as if someone had turned on the air conditioning.
The Mentor's expression was particularly severe: the way he was seated at the table, the turbulent gaze beneath his glasses, it was reminiscent of the last time he announced, "The Prophet is coming."
It seemed this situation was indeed not simple, perhaps as threatening as the Prophet?
Thinking of this, Ji Minghuan tilted his head from the pillow and quietly observed the Mentor for a while, then got out of bed and sat down opposite him.
"You're not just fooling me, are you?" he cautiously asked.
"Honestly," the Mentor said deeply, "If I could, I wouldn't want to tell you this bad news at all."
