"'Solve your fucking paralysis!'"
Nie Feiyang sneered coldly, intending to walk forward, but he suddenly realized something horrifying.
His legs and feet wouldn't obey him at all.
He mechanically lifted his arm like a robot, fished out a short flute from his embrace, and gently blew into it as he placed it to his lips.
At this moment, Old Zhou Zhishan, sitting on the redwood lounge chair, was following Mo Han's instructions, eyes tightly shut, mouth wide open.
Suddenly, a strange flute sound entered his ears, and his head instantly felt groggy.
After a dozen seconds, under the watchful eyes of everyone, a snow-white flying insect about half the size of a fingernail slowly flew out of Zhou Zhishan's mouth. Guided by the flute sound, it slowly flew into Nie Feiyang's ear and eventually burrowed inside.
This scene stunned everyone present.
