Shen Le: ...So in the end, do I have to go abroad again?

"They forced me to eat strange things!"

"They forced me to eat balls made of bugs!"

"I'm a peregrine falcon! A peregrine falcon! Not a chicken! Not a woodpecker either! I don't eat bugs!"

"If I didn't eat them, they were going to kill me—"

As Shen Le followed the Special Affairs Bureau personnel to pick up Old You, he heard a harsh, unpleasant voice wailing nonstop, every word steeped in grief.

Sigh, what a sin. Old You had suffered too much. To help him complete the mission, he had nearly lost his life. At least they had managed to save him...

Sighing, Shen Le reached out and pushed open the door. He arranged his expression, put on a smile, and stepped inside.

"Old You, you've worked ha—"

Huh?

What was this?

So after I worked so hard, rushed over from a thousand miles away, and spent a hundred million points, what I got was a...

Naked chicken?

He cautiously took two steps forward and saw an insect-eaten, mouse-bitten, completely bare—

No, a bird that looked much like the chilled fresh chickens sold in supermarkets after all their feathers had been plucked. It lay trembling in a cardboard box lined with towels, too scared even to raise its head.

The differences from a dead chicken were, first, that it was still breathing, and second, that its right wing was splinted and wrapped in gauze.

Clearly, the severely injured peregrine falcon had exhausted himself so thoroughly that he could not even regrow his feathers, and no longer had the strength to heal his own wing...

Shen Le stepped closer. Old You immediately burrowed desperately into the towel and screamed:

"Get away!"

"Don't touch me!"

"Stay away from me!"

"GIA—

GIA—

—GIA—"

Shen Le:

Had he recovered enough vitality to speak human