"Boss, a shabby minibus is right behind us. They may be survivors from Qishan City."
Several people were sitting in the leading SUV, among them was a youth covered in tattoos, and he was the one who spoke to the middle-aged driver. The youth noticed that the minibus was well-preserved but not modified or reinforced. He knew that it was a favorite model for ordinary survivors as its interior was spacious, but that one was below average. Finally, he noticed that its license plate number was not local.
'How were they able to drive such a shabby minibus all the way here for more than one kilometer?'
"I saw it." The middle-aged man in the cab was wearing sunglasses and a short-sleeved jacket, which showcased his muscles. The temperature was below zero, but he didn't feel cold at all.
The middle-aged man said coldly, "Little Seven, go and collect the guiding fee from them. Be careful not to scare them. Most of them should be ordinary survivors."
