The originally simple yet elegant courtyard disappeared, replaced by a hazy space.
There were white mist and black air here.
White mist and black air continuously emerged, intertwining together.
After witnessing such a miraculous scene, Qin An gripped the sheath at his waist, his knuckles distinct with veins.
He did not speak, knowing that this must be the Prime Minister's doing, but since he didn't feel the slightest bit of danger, he chose to watch patiently as events unfolded.
The Prime Minister stood with his hands behind his back, standing beside Qin An, his robe flapping loudly in the wind, and the long beard on his chin swayed with the breeze.
"In this world, it's either black or white."
A leisurely voice emanated from the Prime Minister's mouth.
The Prime Minister moved his gaze, seemingly staring at the fog and darkness ahead, as he gently stroked his long beard and spoke slowly.
