One hundred and fourteen, like a meat blanket of living creatures.

“Caravan!”

An Mu’s white-gold vertical pupils were full of differences, and he turned to look at No. 317.

Caravan is a far-fetched word for him, and it is also a caravan in the human world. An Mubai eats flesh and blood in the Wanye Mountains, and sleeps at night.

I thought that I would never see this kind of product extended from civilization in this life, or at least the first ten years, but I never thought that in the mouth of No. 317, it would suddenly say that the human caravan exists in the same way.

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