Qing Chen silently examined the thatched cottage.
In the middle of the shabby house, there was a black iron pot, and a group of children gathered around it, eating charred insects.
Seeing Qing Chen awake, they chewed on the insects while looking at him with strange smiles, speaking words he couldn't understand.
As the children chewed, the legs of the large grasshoppers stuck out of their lips.
Qing Chen: "..."
Why does he feel like these natives might eat humans?!
For Qing Chen, whose mind was still stuck in the autumn of his 17th year, the experience of 'first' crossing was a bit unpleasant.
With some of his memories sealed, he had just spent eight hours in the dimly lit safe house in the Inner World, listening to seven hours of unbelievable stories, and then returned to a place like this.
Qing Chen looked at the clothes on his body, patchy rags just like those of the Mexican natives.
