The next morning, Wang Lu and Ouyang Shang found the tribal great elder and directly put forward their request.
"Magic mark?"
The great elder was having breakfast in the tent—a plate of light vegetable soup. As soon as he heard the request of the two people, he drank the vegetable soup through his nose on the spot.
"How did you know the existence of the magic mark?"
For the desert demon tribe, the magic mark could be considered as an absolute secret, their top-level secret for the spark as their only hope. But in just one day, outsiders were able to hear it!
Wang Lu laughed and said, "What a joke, after letting a professional adventurer walk around your city for a day, do you still expect to have any privacy left?"
From the side, Ouyang Shang argued, "Junior Brother Wang Lu, what you just said is somewhat abnormal."
"Senior Brother Ouyang, you seem to be saying that I'm not abnormal."
"…"
