He had already left his dungeon at this moment, but as the substitute manager here, he counted as half the owner.
He didn't tell anyone that even after leaving his territory, there was always a complete surveillance projection inside his mind.
At first, it was unbearable—his head throbbed, crammed with images, things he wanted to see and things he didn't, relentless both day and night, never fading from his mind.
He tried to adapt, but these images were simply beyond his control.
For a while, he'd spend restless nights, unable to sleep, but now…
Flying Eagle gazed at the surveillance image that filled his entire brain, and he saw: The moment Jiang Che uttered that killing the current half-finished dungeon manager would let someone take his place, over a dozen pairs of eyes on his own territory simultaneously looked up—staring at the floating eyeball above their heads.
