"What kind of junk mail?"
As Mugalen was carrying his hunting shotgun, preparing for today's hunt, he pulled out his phone and discovered an email sent by someone unknown. When he opened it, the array of colors almost blinded him.
Cursing under his breath about his brain being polluted, Mugalen muttered, "Damn service providers must have sold my information again!"
After saying that, Mugalen deleted the email and slipped his phone back into his pocket, humming an unnamed tune as he closed the car door.
An alley in Los Angeles.
Bi Fang, who sent the email, had waited for quite a while but did not receive the expected response.
Yao Jun scratched his head beside him, "Are you sure this will work?"
"Let's wait a bit longer, maybe he doesn't have his phone on him," Bi Fang hesitated but chose to continue waiting.
Mugalen wasn't his loyal dog. He wouldn't even instantly reply to a message on QQ, let alone an email.