Two days later, Zhang Yang had stockpiled 30 portions of Dry Rations, and Broken-Legged Robin finally woke up.
A weak moan escaped his mouth. From the moment he opened his eyes, they were as bewildered as could be, showing all the signs of someone about to ask the classic three questions.
Zhang Yang ignored him and simply sat more than ten meters away, calmly whittling a wooden spear. The wooden spear was still the same wooden spear, but he was no longer the same man.
With his superior physical attributes, he could even throw an ordinary wooden spear with enough force to rival the damage dealt by the Ghost Hunter crossbow in Broken-Legged Robin's hands.
Of course, the reason he was whittling wooden spears now was also to cover up the existence of his 30 portions of Dry Rations.
Spear Jack without a wooden spear—what kind of Spear Jack would that be?
Zhang Yang was working hard to build up various identities for himself: a weirdo who was obsessed with whittling wooden spears, a Ghost Hunter who liked to carry a bundle of firewood around while wandering from place to place, and so on.
As the saying went, one always regretted not having enough identities when they were needed. Zhang Yang certainly was not going to make that mistake.
"Are we—still alive?"
After more than ten minutes of utter bewilderment, Broken-Legged Robin finally asked his first question.
"Of course we're still alive. Praise my lord! At the final moment, my lord Zhao Xianyu personally descended, frightened away that mid-level soul ghost, and bestowed upon me an even more powerful divine art. Now, I can officially proclaim to the whole world that I am Spear Jack."
Zhang Yang spun the tale off the top of his head. After all, the dead