"If we could awaken supernatural abilities too and put together our own convoy, would we still have to put up with this crap?"
Third grinned wickedly, his lecherous gaze darting toward the departing bus.
"Those pretty chicks on the bus are still putting on airs. It's the apocalypse. Why pretend they're so pure?"
"Especially that Zhuo Fujiao. Does she really think she's some kind of princess?"
"Still dreaming of latching on to Yang Yong!"
"Pah! Why doesn't she piss on the ground and take a look at her reflection? That whore's been ridden by a thousand men and fucked by ten thousand!"
The men burst into a round of filthy laughter.
Boss didn't join in the crude talk. He simply stared silently at the fire, still on edge.
He planned to lead them straight back to the convoy as soon as the rice was cooked.
In this apocalypse, they would never last long away from the convoy.
He actually trusted Cao Xianming's abilities.
But that sliver of wishful thinking had won out in the end.
The aroma of rice gradually spread.
The grains churned, filling the air with their fragrance.
After four days of going hungry, the men practically turned green-eyed at the smell.
Soon, the rice was ready.
Unable to hold back any longer, they picked up their bowls and each scooped out a heaping serving.
The piping-hot rice entered their mouths, bringing a filling warmth.
It felt so good that their eyes narrowed, and they nearly moaned.
Just then-
An old, hoarse voice, with an indescribably eerie undertone, drifted softly from beside them.
"Young men, that rice smells so good."
"Give me a bowl too."
The first man to serve himself went rigid.
The smile instantly froze on his face.
Cold sweat soaked his back in an instant.