"Little White God, how are Xie Fu Yao's injuries?"
Looking at the blood-soaked man before him, Director Wen was still quite worried. After all, something truly terrible couldn't be allowed to happen.
"Flesh wounds."
Seeing the two words on the ground, Director Wen felt a lot more relieved.
"Possessed."
When he saw the new word written by Little White God, Director Wen felt even more relieved!
'So it's just a case of possession!'
The way he was just baring his teeth and trying to bite people looked exactly like a zombie from a movie—the kind where one bite spreads the virus.
And they were scared of dying, too.
After seeing the word "possessed," the crew members also felt a lot more relieved.
And so, Xie Fu Yao, already suffering from flesh wounds, had his hands and feet bound with several more loops of rope.
"Director, you have to be our witness. We're just adding a few more ropes for safety. When Xie Fu Yao wakes up, he'll see that we saved him."
