To be honest, Song Cheng did not really care what Yu Sheng had asked for—after all, they had "cooperated" so many times that he now fully understood the director's attitude toward Yu Sheng. His only concern had been that there was a bit too much, and it might be enough to burst someone. But after seeing Huli strip a chicken leg down to the bone in three bites, even that last concern vanished...
Instead, Yu Sheng was the embarrassed one. After the grilled skewers were brought over, he glanced awkwardly at Song Cheng. "You're really giving them to me? You didn't even ask first?"
"As long as you don't roast me, we're good." Captain Song wore a solemn expression, desperately trying to ignore the sounds of Huli wolfing down skewers beside him. "Our Special Operations Bureau has always approached things from a practical angle..."
Yu Sheng gave a silly laugh, casually swept all the other alchemical materials he wanted into Huli's tail, and then walked over to the corpses of the Angel Cultists.
These cultists had not been dead for long. Based on the estimates, that insane "self-sacrifice" ritual had probably taken place the previous night. Yu Sheng believed his "conversation with the dead" ability should work quite well on corpses this "fresh."
He slit open one cultist's palm. Blood that had not yet fully coagulated slowly seeped from the wound.
He inhaled lightly and reached out to touch the cooling blood, muttering softly as if to himself, "Come on, let's have a chat."
In an instant, the stagnant, faded world belonging to the dead descended.
Everything around him turned into a monotonous black, white, and gray. The entire room fell silent. The cold blood formed a temporary passageway. Yu Sheng's vision blurred for a moment, and once it stabilized,