"Makula Budu, Makula Budu."
The black-armored man suddenly took out his phone and made a call.
"Hmm..."
Looking at the man's standard Western-style fantasy attire, Liu Zheng found it oddly funny.
But considering this was the Metropolis, it somehow felt reasonable.
"Hmm?"
The black-armored man froze for a moment and then abruptly turned to look at him.
At the same time, Liu Zheng's phone rang as well.
"Kid, have you had enough vacation already? I haven't even caught my breath, and now another mission pops up—my hooves are practically worn flat."
Niu Ma complained.
"Another mission? Where's the delivery going? Who's the customer?"
He asked.
"Delivery to Door 17 of the Old City Slave Market. Customer's name is Faras Karl."
Niu Ma hesitated before answering.
"Almost done, big boss, hang in there for a bit longer."
Liu Zheng replied perfunctorily and then hung up.
Meeting the icy gaze of the black-armored man, Liu Zheng smirked coldly.
