SLAP!
Two more fat mosquitoes landed on his bald head.
Ruchen could only keep slapping himself to drive the mosquitoes away.
By the time they were halfway through the dense forest, Ruchen's head, neck, and any other exposed skin were covered in welts of all sizes from mosquito bites.
Zheng Xiu, on the other hand, was having a peaceful journey, as the mosquitoes had no appetite for him.
"Why do the mosquitoes treat you like you're not even there?"
Ruchen grumbled, unconvinced.
"Heh. You can't generalize about people's constitutions. Maybe your flesh and blood just smells tastier. Many years ago, I read a story about a monk with delicate skin named Tang Xuanzang. Legend has it that if demons or evil creatures ate his flesh, they would gain immortality and eternal youth..."
Finally, after much difficulty, they emerged from the dense forest, and the view opened up before them.
