It’s wonderful.
I lost all my life, but at last, I won a round.
Even though winning just this little is futile, it still brings some relief.
Ma Dafu walked up to Ren Zhong and asked, "So what’s the situation?"
Ma Xiaoling, spitting out a grape seed with a piu, answered first, "He wants to participate in the Pu Cha as a temporary Scavenger of Starfire Town, challenging the Cold-blooded Butcher."
Ma Dafu held his forehead, almost fainting.
What on earth!
Ren Zhong spread his hands, "Old Ma, there’s something I’ve lied to you about. I’ve been deceiving you all along. I don’t really have any team, nor have I found a new settlement for the Scavengers. That’s the truth."
Ma Dafu: "Crazy!"
"But my intention to save Starfire Town is serious. My plan is to help you and Starfire Town pass the Pu Cha. It hasn’t changed."
Ma Dafu really didn’t want to deal with Ren Zhong anymore, thinking that his schemes over the past two months had become a joke.
He felt pitifully foolish.
He looked at Ma Xiaoling, "Do you believe him?"
Ma Xiaoling nodded, "I feel like he’s not lying this time."
"Feel? Is that even acceptable?"
Old Ma thought perhaps his failure stemmed from having Ma Xiaoling as a daughter.
...
Ren Zhong laughed heartily as he was chased out of the town government by Ma Dafu.
He stood atop the White Wall, gazing into the distance, overlooking every detail inside Starfire Town.
This place is desolate, chaotic, impoverished.
This place is about to be destroyed.
This place doesn’t even have the abundant resources like Chromium Carbon Town, nor the various advanced facilities in Zhan Sha County nearby for his use.
But subtly, only standing here does he feel a sense of peace inside.
He still hadn’t told the truth.
This time, he wouldn’t see the Cold-blooded Butcher.
Before challenging the Cold-blooded Butcher, the first opponent he must face is the Descending Demon Baby.
The day after tomorrow.
Meaning the 75th day.
He was going to die.
This time, it was death for the sake of dying.
Ren Zhong wore a carefree smile on his face.
This time, he had given up many things to willingly die for people unrelated to him.
He thought.
Someone like me, in the 21st century, would probably be scolded as a saint.
But what does it matter?
Because I am the rice flower of Orange Isle, always wither in autumn and sprout in spring!
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