Looking at the car speeding crazily ahead, Zhang Yiming instinctively rubbed his temples.
Zombies really give headaches.
After the car disappeared from sight, Zhang Yiming finally looked at his injured right hand.
A finger on his right hand was limply dangling, with a piece showing white bone, and black blood was seeping out.
Zhang Yiming shoved the bruise medicine into his pocket, pressing a few spots on his body with his left hand.
The rib area was soft, likely a few ribs were broken.
Yet, Zhang Yiming didn't feel any pain at all.
With a detached expression, Zhang Yiming sat on the motorcycle, holding the motorcycle with one hand and gripping the crystal core with the other, proceeding nonchalantly toward the safety base.
As the crystal core gradually dimmed, Zhang Yiming's injured finger healed at a speed visible to the naked eye.
His destination was also in the direction of the safety base, but he deliberately took another route.
