"Mr. Iron Leg, it's your turn."
In the dim warehouse, heavy with the smell of blood, a male zombie lazily rose from a battered sofa.
His long legs were especially striking. He stood around two and a half meters tall, and his legs alone must have measured a meter and sixty centimeters.
They weren't just long; they seemed to gleam like metal.
Because this zombie's legs were exceptionally powerful, as hard and sharp as iron, Zheng Jin had given him a simple, catchy name: Iron Leg.
Zheng Jin didn't dare approach Iron Leg during feeding time. When he ate, Iron Leg recognized no one.
Every day, Zheng Jin had to capture several people to feed Iron Leg, who was happy to have someone provide for him.
This was Zheng Jin's first attempt to ask Iron Leg for help. He had only been feeding him for two days.
Iron Leg chuckled. "Why should I help you? If I don't, are you going to stop feeding me?"
Zheng Jin's expression remained unchanged. "Mr. Iron Leg, there's someone who's far too arrogant. He stole my things and even boasted that no one could stop him, not even God himself."
"I mentioned your great name, but he still ran his mouth. He said, 'What the hell is that? Iron Claw, Iron Head, Iron Arm, Iron Leg-I don't care. Even Iron Balls would be useless.'"
After observing him for two days, Zheng Jin had learned a little about Iron Leg's personality. He was fairly intelligent, but like a reckless, arrogant teenager, he couldn't resist a challenge.
Sure enough, Iron Leg's expression changed drastically, and he raged, "Who? Who dares look down on Iron Leg? I'll eat him!"
Zheng Jin smiled. Powerful, but an idiot.
Humans weren't as strong as tigers or lions, yet they stood