After checking the pistol and rifle he carried with him, Han Wanghou walked out of the room with a slightly gloomy face, drove into his own car, and came all the way to Antan Street.

This time, he did not go to Dr. Metz's clinic, but instead found the underground black market with his rich experience and met a businessman in the human organ channel.

"Do you have a heart?" Han Wanghuo asked bluntly.

"Yes, you have all kinds of organs you want. I don't guarantee who they come from, because I don't know. I won't understand these, which will condemn my conscience, and if I don't do it, some people will do it." The black market merchant was very talkative, and some said a lot.

He is a gray-eared man, not very old, at the age of twenty-four or five, 1.75 meters tall, and has a bit of a bookish look.

Han Wanghou was silent for a few seconds and said:

“Is there anyone who volunteers to donate their hearts?”

"Volunteer?" the black market businessman laughed, "You have reached the point where you need to change your organs. This is dust again. Do you still care if you are volunteering for something?"

Han Wanghui's muscles beat slightly on his face and asked again:

“Is there any?”

"Yes, but not a few, the probability of successful matching is very low." The black market businessman shook his head and said.

Han Wanghuo slowly breathed:
Chapter completed!