Under the guidance of three individuals whose roles seemed ambiguous, possibly secretaries, bodyguards, or perhaps both, Feng Xue cradled a dictionary in one hand and clutched a stack of flashcards in the other. Amid the frictional sounds between her 25,000-carat evil gold anklet and the ground, her posture was more reminiscent of a saint about to preach to believers than that of a prisoner, as she entered a spacious room.
This place bore a resemblance to a prison visitation area, but was significantly larger. The entire room was divided into two sections by a transparent partition of unknown material, nearly ten centimeters thick. The not-so-smart-looking boss she had seen yesterday and the man in a wheelchair who appeared to have been tortured by Infinite City were now casually chatting on the other side of the partition, flanked by five or six bodyguards armed with firearms.
