Zhou Yong, who was straddling Zhang Dadan, looked up at the empty surroundings and then down at Zhang Dadan. Surviving the ordeal, he asked, "Are they... already killed?"
Zhang Dadan, who had never been mounted by a man before, was furious at the sight of himself sprawled under Zhou Yong. He reminded him, "Bro, would you mind getting off of me first?"
Zhou Yong quickly stood up, disgusted. "Uh? Uh... sorry... sorry... But don't get me wrong, I have no interest in you, man!"
"Fuck you! You better have no interest in me, or I can't take it!" Zhang Dadan struggled to get up, clutching his back.
Seeing the pained look on Zhang Dadan's face, Zhou Yong quickly moved behind him, only to find his back covered in scars.
Countless hair-thin wounds were slowly oozing blood, looking terrifying. The blood was black, perhaps due to the night.
Zhou Yong, while 'appreciating' his scarred back, exclaimed anxiously, "What do we do... what do we do... Let's call 120..."