They had been in a hurry on the way here, but there was no need to rush back. Su Ming carried Bobo and leisurely flew back along the route they had taken.
Before long, they reunited with their teammates at the entrance. Everyone had clearly been through a battle. Aside from Colonel Sanders, every one of them bore signs of injury; even Wally had a small cut on his leg.
The Yongjia People were genuinely formidable, especially with their astonishing speed. Fighting them head-on put enormous pressure on anyone.
But the Aliens present now stood motionless like mannequins in a display window. Fully armed, they had become humanity's captives and slaves. The moment they saw Deathstroke, as if triggered by some neural reflex, they shouted in unison:
"Darkseid is!"
"Darkseid is!"
"Darkseid is!"
Honestly, Su Ming found the situation incredibly awkward, like having a cringeworthy bout of adolescent delusion exposed in public.
Donna and the others, in particular, were giving him strange looks. The enemy had suddenly switched sides midway through the fight and become their own people, leaving everyone in an uncomfortable limbo.
"An excellent solution, Deathstroke." Colonel Sanders looked like a freshly fried shrimp, wisps of heat rising from his body. He had clearly been the main force holding off the enemy just now. "If you don't plan to keep these Aliens, why not sell them to me?"
Many people knew that Deathstroke hated Aliens. In the eyes of this Dark Man, Aliens ranked even lower than beasts of burden. They were more like cockroaches or flies—repulsive pests.
But Colonel Sanders did not hate Aliens. As a qualified capitalist, all he saw was a group of cheap laborers.
As long as they could peel potatoes, feed chickens, and drive delivery trucks, he did not care what race they