A small gathering place.
Yang Yong felt a stir of interest.
In this apocalypse, ordinary people gathered together could not survive more than three days.
That seventy-two-hour rule was like a blade hanging overhead, impossible to escape wherever they went.
For a gathering place to endure, it had to have something unique, at least...
Something capable of resisting the Eerie that came knocking at regular intervals.
He had never truly encountered such a method before.
If he could coax that method out of this old woman, his road ahead would be much easier.
"Your incarnation is about to dissipate."
Yang Yong did not answer her, instead saying something unrelated.
Huang Santainai looked down at herself. Sure enough, her body was slowly dissolving into grayish-white mist, starting at the edges.
It was not dissolving quickly, but the process was irreversible.
"Indeed."
The old woman gave a bitter smile.
"The gray mist over this wasteland is too thick. My spiritual sense cannot reach far."
"City Lord Yang, why not come along with this disappointing great-grandson of mine? Whatever you wish to discuss, we can talk at leisure once you arrive."
As she spoke, she pointed at the little weasel still kneeling on the ground.
"No! Great-Grandmother! I'm not riding in the same truck as him!"
The little creature began trembling all over again, his youthful voice clear and tender, choked with tears.
"He'll turn me into a scarf!"
"Shut up!"
The old woman glared, frightening the Yellow Weasel into clamping his mouth tightly shut.
"City Lord Yang, this great-grandson of mine may be foolish, but his sensitivity to the wasteland is exceptional. He can help you avoid a great deal of trouble."
"He is the ideal guide for you."
She turned back to Yang Yong, her gaze earnest. "Consider it a plea