Zhang Bihuang nodded gently. "We have."
"The four convoys are splitting up."
"Our Yangcheng No. 2 Middle School Convoy has taken in the Doomsday Convoy."
Yang Yong raised an eyebrow slightly.
He remembered the Doomsday Convoy.
Its leader, Pang Jinbao, belonged to the Pathfinder Sequence and had only half a year left to live.
He had brought a group of similarly short-lived Transcendents to join the Yangcheng No. 2 Middle School Convoy.
Even the six ordinary people from the Doomsday Convoy who had previously sought refuge with the Survival Convoy went along with them.
With that, the original five convoys were now down to four.
And the Yangcheng No. 2 Middle School Convoy had finally remedied its lack of someone from the Pathfinder Sequence.
Yang Yong made no comment.
That was simply how survival in the apocalypse worked.
You couldn't put all your eggs in one basket, and no one could be relied upon. Looking after yourself mattered more than anything.
He asked no further questions and simply held out his hand to Zhang Bihuang.
Zhang Bihuang froze. A faint blush instantly colored his cheeks, and his heartbeat inexplicably quickened.
She hesitated for a moment, then shyly placed her small hand gently in his.
The corner of Yang Yong's mouth twitched hard.
"Give me your staff."
Zhang Bihuang: "..."
The girl's face instantly flushed scarlet with embarrassment, and she hurriedly handed over the wooden Holy Light Staff she was holding.
Yang Yong took the staff and silently murmured in his mind:
Busted furnace, give it a little forging.
Add a little damage against Eerie. It doesn't need to be too strong.
The next moment.
Under Zhang Bihuang's dumbfounded gaze.
The Holy Light Staff in Yang Yong's hand, half a person's height, shrank furiously at a speed visible to the naked