"I want two bottles."
"Sorry," Chen Zhao said. "I gave you and Marian each one bottle. Now, I only have one."
It was practically impossible to produce the ointment in the human world. He could only get some ingredients when he went to Hell.
This was why Chen Zhao didn't produce that many. After all, there were other ointments.
He couldn't use it all to produce one type.
"How long will it take to produce one bottle?"
"At most two or three per month," Chen Zhao replied after calculating.
Unless he went to Hell, he would have no way to get the ingredients.
"That little?"
But Kyla didn't doubt this. If he could mass-produce this kind of ointment, Chen Zhao would probably be the world's richest man.
"Are you at home now? I'm in a hurry. I'll go over to get it."
"I'm not home," Chen Zhao said. "Here, tell me where you are. I'll bring it over."
"Okay." Kyla recited her address.
