"Or should we walk and search for your brothers along the way?"
Zhong Zimo extended an invitation to Vasily, stretching out his arm to indicate the car full of beauties behind him,
"You all need some diversion, right?"
Vasily hesitated, continually scratching the back of his hand where a patch of skin seemed afflicted by some kind of skin disease.
Clearly, he looked extremely exhausted, and his mental acuity was greatly reduced from before.
His other brothers were in a similar state,
some even had a vacant gaze, standing outside the bus incessantly scratching themselves.
As if some bug had burrowed into their skin.
Zhong Zimo dismissed the slightly odd behavior of Vasily's few assassins.
What could be the big problem? It's the apocalypse, after all, just some itchy skin.
He pulled a bag from under his seat, took out a bottle of floral water, and handed it to Vasily,
"I've always admired you and wanted to be your friend."
