Xiwo, the Supply

Did I have no rights just because I couldn't fly? Su Ming complained inwardly.

He had no choice but to study disguise forms in depth and develop transformations such as a suitcase to solve the problem.

But looking at the references to 243 component configurations in the tutorial, Su Ming was seized by a phantom pain, as though his head were about to burst.

Which great god had I offended to earn the honor of setting foot on this road of no return?!

The view shifted back to Zijin, who had begun directing the zombie squad to clean the ship's reception room.

"Is someone coming?" Su Ming asked.

They had returned to the Central Ocean only to contact the Federation, request the latest information on the sea monster, and notify the Federation that the investigation had officially begun.

Zijin also took the opportunity to pick up the alchemical sponge and a few odds and ends, and replenish their stock of fresh vegetables.

"It's Charles. He can send messages now, but he still insists on coming," Zijin complained. "Doesn't he get tired riding that Dragonhawk?"

After the White Bone Fortress transformed into its trimaran form, its magic power channels needed to be rebuilt and its magic arrays inscribed, not to mention the vast quantity of newly absorbed bird bones that needed refining. She was even busier than Su Ming had been a few days earlier and didn't even have time to beat him up in the name of training.

Several times, Su Ming had brought meals right to her and watched her eat. He had stopped just short of feeding her himself.

But there was nothing she could do about a guest coming. She changed out of her work clothes, casually slipped into a dress, and tied her hair in