The soul bag was slapped by Xia Mian and was left dizzy, spinning aimlessly in the air, like a child who had been wronged.
Xia Mian didn't even glance at the soul bag, instead fixing her gaze on the black silhouette.
He appeared to be a refined man.
Of course, he was now just a soul.
The man's eyes looked hollow, dazed, and since earlier he had been completely intimidated by the soul bag's field, now he dared not move at all.
The man wore gold-rimmed glasses, a white shirt, black suit trousers, and shiny leather shoes.
From his attire, he seemed to be a scholar.
"Who are you? Why are you crying here?" Xia Mian didn't like guessing things. Since the entity from the bottom of the well had come up by itself, she waited for him to explain the situation verbally.
Being questioned, the man seemed to realize something, turned his stiff neck slightly, and cast his hollow gaze onto Xia Mian's body, repeating mechanically, "Who am I? Why am I crying here?"
