Trash

Fifteen minutes had passed, but the afro still hadn't escaped. Moreover, his temper seemed to be getting more and more irritable.

The afro thought, "What the hell!"

The tables and chairs were just ordinary tables and chairs. There were no clues at all. Not to mention marks, there weren't even scratches. They were just ordinary existences and ordinary arrangements. It was as if they were simply provided for them to sit and think.

He couldn't help but kick the chair twice. The director of the secret room immediately said through the walkie-talkie, "Please don't damage the props."

The afro barely managed to stop.

Then, he looked at He Jing and Yan Hanxi, his eyes as cold as poisonous snakes.

"Don't think that just because I can't get out, you can."

Yan Hanxi smiled.

His laughter was like a catalyst, making the afro even more furious. He wanted to teach him a lesson directly.