Trouble did arise indeed.
Ling Mo hurried over and took a look at Little White's condition with the spill of light from his flashlight.
The Mutant Panda was now lying limp on the ground, with its limbs spread out, whining uncomfortably.
When the light hit it, it cracked open its eyelids to glance at Ling Mo, then droopily shut them again with a lack of energy.
"What on earth is going on..."
Ling Mo had never seen a zombie or a mutant beast in such a state; it looked like... it was sick?
But that's nonsense! What virus could possibly overpower the Zombie Virus?
As the notorious "Iron-blooded Killer" who feared neither dismantling nor torture, Little White, however, did not thrash about on the ground, but was enduring with all its might.
"Any injuries on the body?"
Ling Mo rummaged through the thick fur for a while, only to find a few superficial skin wounds.
Such minor injuries would hardly bother Little White; they were like tickles, unlikely to be the cause.
