Seeing Han Sumei abandon Zheng Yingjun, the audiences from nine other countries, including Dragon Country, all burst out laughing.
[So this is the plastic friendship of your Great Cold Country?]
[When danger strikes, the first to turn traitor is always someone from the Great Cold Country!]
[I can't wait to see Zheng Yingjun panic when that ghost appears.]
[He's really dug his own grave this time.]
[But the crisis isn't even over, and this idiot just had to go and do something stupid!]
[Don't tell me she's actually going to let it out. This is definitely not going to end well.]
...
Soon, Han Sumei ran into the small room.
She tightly gripped the string of keys, knowing that time was running out.
The darkness in the small room was like viscous ink. With every step, Han Sumei felt as though she were being tangled in invisible spiderwebs. A musty, rotten stench filled her nostrils, mingled with the sour reek of some decaying substance.
