Torrential rain poured down as a man and a woman walked along the village path, which was uneven and filled with puddles.
Their clothes had long since become unpresentable, clinging completely to their bodies.
Yimo pushed the handcart from behind, while Pikachu pulled on both handles from the front.
Seriously.
Even a sturdy tomboy like Pikachu, who could probably take down four burly men, was beginning to question her life after being drenched by this downpour.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Ferryman was right. This kind of thing really was meaningless.
Maybe the next person to die would be him.
Would anyone collect the corpse of someone with a body like his?
Pikachu turned her head. Her vision was blurred by the rain, but she could still clearly see Yimo lowering his head and gritting his teeth as he pushed the cart. She could not help smiling in relief.
He could not move his own body.
Other than her, no one else would help this idiot bury the dead.
All that mattered was how one lived while alive. All he needed to do was struggle to keep living!
As for what happened after death!
If there were souls or something like that by then, he would worry about it then!!!
With that thought, Pikachu suddenly felt much less tired. Her mood became unusually light, and she even let out a loud roar.
"Ah!!!"
"Charge!!!"
Yimo was pushing the cart from behind and thinking things over when Pikachu suddenly shouted. He was startled so badly that he flinched, lost his footing, and stepped into a puddle. He was about to fall headfirst into the mud.
"Oh no!" he cried instinctively.
Pikachu happened to turn around and see this. Quick as a flash, she grabbed Yimo's arm, preventing the