The first question left him sweating buckets, the next made him completely flustered.
What else?
The middle-aged fat guy's mind was totally blank. What what? What was he talking about?
Seeing his lack of reaction, Blood Slaughter snorted coldly again, but was afraid he'd scare this human in front of him, "I mean, is there anything tastier?"
When he heard the detailed explanation, the middle-aged fat guy was dumbfounded. He looked at the dazzling array of food in front of him—being a rich guy, he knew what was expensive, what was cheap, what tasted good, and what was mediocre.
First, he ruled out the instant mini hotpot bought from the supermarket; this was the food the regular hospital caregivers had prepared for themselves. Some wanted a decent meal, but others weren't thinking about that—they just wanted to survive and get out alive.
If you can't escape the dungeon alive, eating well is pointless.
