The morning light filtered through a small square window into the prison, casting a square patch of illumination on the floor, yet such brightness could not add even a hint of warmth to the cold, damp cell.
Feng Xue stretched his body to relieve the stiffness from maintaining a knee-hugging sitting posture for an extended period. It seemed that due to the law of conservation of luck, after successfully refining the translation taro, Feng Xue had drawn a Black Ball six consecutive times, which scared him into halting his increasingly addictive card-drawing behavior. Instead, he devoted all his time to creating flashcards. By the end of the night, he had accumulated a thick stack of them.