Poor Khaki Tontita was in utter despair.
He had been hollering for half the day with no one paying him any mind, annoying the witch hunter guarding him who eventually gave him a slap and forced a torn strip of cloth into his mouth.
The young player was left in a daze.
Although it didn't hurt, the slap deal a severe psychological blow to the young man.
He had never been treated like this before, his temper flared, and given his northeast temperament, he began struggling to retaliate. But the witch hunter simply dodged with a sardonic grin and nimble step, perfectly evading Khaki's attempted headbutt.
The three beaten-up, unlucky captive workers next to him were stunned.
Man, were you always this bold?
We're on their home turf. It's four against thirty of them. Ah, we're at a slight disadvantage in numbers.
Big brother Khaki, maybe we should call it quits. There's no need for us to stoop to the level of these barbaric witch hunters.
Khaki Tontita was actually frantic.
