At a poor neighborhood in a city within the Beiyan Continent.
A man with a refined and scholarly appearance sat shirtless. He lit a lighter and heated the tweezers in his hand until they glowed red, then briefly dipped them in alcohol. Aiming at the gaping, fleshy wound on his waist, he slowly inserted the tweezers into his flesh.
"Hiss—!" The bone-deep pain made the man gasp sharply, and large beads of sweat slowly fell from his forehead. His face was pale, his lips devoid of color.
Standing beside him was a younger man holding gauze, watching him with concern.
"President, why don't we go to the hospital? The people outside have probably left by now. It's really too dangerous for you to remove the bullet by yourself!"
