Red hair and heavy beard, not tall but stoutly built.
Along with a full, resounding voice and the ferocious attack just now when he struck decisively, the man called White presents a truly heroic image.
And the most notable thing on this hero at the mont is undoubtedly his blue and black attire.
Intricately tailored and elaborately styled, it forms a stark contrast with the rest of the group, even featuring a black background trident pattern in gold thread.
That’s the symbol of the Siren, seen long ago in the Wasteland.
Clearly different from the other prisoners, this person is most likely an accompanying inmate.
This is also probably why this self-rescue team, hastily assembled, implicitly regards his opinion as paramount.
For example, right behind White, a considerably younger and more slender woman, had neither a word in the attack just now nor in the questioning now, rely pursing her lips and looking around.
Besides appearing to be the youngest, this person also looks the healthiest.
Rosy lips, lively eyes, sharply contrasting with the black-haired lady across.
"But this will only spread the contamination more severely..."
Facing White’s scrutiny, the black-haired lady deeply returned his look, then continued to glance toward the deford prison door, softly comnting on his statent.
Under continuous ravaging, that bizarre creation had already turned to fine ash, leaving no trace.
Theoretically, however, this is precisely the troubling part; without a speck of ash, the contamination spread rate is one hundred percent.
"But it might not make our situation worse."
Yet White was evidently very confident in his judgnt, almost responding instantly.
"We’re already infected, aren’t we? It’s better than letting it run loose when we’re trying to find a way out."
A true man never looks back at explosions; he scoffed and asked rhetorically, not even glancing more at his own battlefield.
"Including this Miss An."
The next mont he directly grabbed the arm of the woman next to him.
She still didn’t utter a word and clearly suppressed the urge to pull back, letting him pull up her sleeve.
Not exactly snow-white but fine and glossy, even though the scarlet blood lines were still very faint, they were starkly ominous against it.
Still, no matter what, she was the mildest case among everyone.
"Then you can call them Jill, Li, Scholar... who is this?"
While the black-haired lady remained silent, White pointed to each in turn — her, her athletic teammate, and the two rescued people for introductions.
And when his eyes finally landed on Fu Qian, he squinted slightly, lost in thought.
"You don’t recognize him?"
And Jill, the black-haired lady, finally exclaid because of the last sentence.
...
Why is the nickna for the prison mate brother different from everyone else’s style?
Additionally, it appears Mr. White is not only part of the staff here, but he is certainly a leader.
Of course, judging by strength, he surely is as capable as a prison chief or the like.
Suddenly becoming the focus, even the atmosphere of fighting for survival was slightly diluted by it, yet Fu Qian remained unruffled.
Jill’s astonishnt was quite normal.
Obviously it was a hastily ford team, but Mr. White knew the nas of everyone except himself, even using a nickna for the prison mate brother.
This level of familiarity, as ntioned earlier, clearly indicates he is part of the prison’s managent.
However, he didn’t know his own na.
This made the already unusual double room appear even more suspicious.
Even relatively, his cellmate known as Scholar had the most intense reaction.
After all, he too had considered this issue before, ultimately arriving at the sa inconclusive result.
On one hand, he was a suspicious person. On the other, according to the information Jill provided, the source of the Crimson Frenzy has yet to be found...
But although he could understand all this, Fu Qian didn’t bla the warehouse any further.
Reason where reason is due; fairness is important in these dealings.
While the identity setup seed a little perfunctory, compared to at the start, he himself had already molded a new face directly.
So much so that even if the White Prison Chief knew all the prisoners, it was useless.
"No matter, just call Sinners."
With a chuckle, Fu Qian finally spoke, even adhering to prison culture, giving himself a worldly alias.
...
"He was locked in the sa place with , you don’t know?"
Still more than one person remained on guard, even after Fu Qian introduced himself.
In the tense atmosphere, it was finally Mr. Scholar who tried to break the ice, asking White incredulously.
"With you... why would I lock you up together?"
The other’s brows furrowed more tightly in an instant, almost instinctively retorting.
And under this claim, even the Miss An beside him montarily flicked gray-green fingers, brimming with hostility.
"Wait, it seems this is indeed..."
However, at this mont of tense standoff, Mr. White suddenly rembered sothing, his eyes widened sharply.
"Recently, soone was just sent, the na, um... indeed I was the one who assigned him there..."
Staring at Fu Qian’s face, it was clear he was strenuously recalling, ultimately nodding in confirmation.
Huh?
This conclusion once again shifted the atmosphere abruptly.
Earlier, it felt suspicious, thinking they’d caught the culprit, surprisingly it turned out to be officially certified.
For a mont, Jill and the others appeared unsure of how to react.
As expected, everything has its dual aspects.
With another low chuckle, Fu Qian clearly wasn’t bothered by this awkward situation.
Even perfunctory serves its purpose. The warehouse forcefully cramd this identity onto him, not only in one of the rare double rooms but also without assigning a matching prisoner na, not even a photograph in the records.
This indeed was a glaring flaw easily uncovered, but considering the current circumstance, it brought about unique subtleties—Mr. White seed concerned about the Crimson Frenzy’s effect on the mind.
Clearly, there was such an occurrence, but he couldn’t recall the key details, not even having a concept of appearances.
Compared to professional ntal influence, the mory loss due to the growing severity of the Crimson Frenzy seems a more plausible reason.
In such a tense setting, manifesting such signs would undoubtedly cast doubt on leadership.
He must have been hesitant about the na issue earlier, but in the end, he opted not to delve excessively.
"Since Mr. Sinners here seems fine, shall we continue? Which way now?"
At this ti, a voice ca from the side, it was Jill who had been watching White’s behavior the entire ti, now urging everyone to move on.
Based on her reaction, it’s hard to say how much she trusts White’s words.
Yet, as it is a makeshift vessel, complete satisfaction seems too much to ask for.
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