In the dimly lit room.
Master Zhi Kong strove to make his questioning voice gentler, yet the man, clutching his damp crotch, huddled in the corner. Upon answering a question, he couldn't help but fearfully glance at the figure in the corner of the wall.
The youth in the ink-dark robe sat silently on the wooden chair, his gaze drifting as if his mind was elsewhere, but the gentle tapping of his fingertips on the desktop made the man tremble with each sound, before he hurriedly turned to focus on Zhi Kong, almost eager to prove his sincerity.
Shen Yi was uninterested in the matters of the Bodhi Sect.
Mainly because he couldn't understand.
He quietly stared at the altar in the wall crack, looking at the kind-eyed and benevolent mouse-headed statue, gradually sinking into contemplation.
