Fang Hong and the young man sat at adjacent tables, separated by the candlelight on the wooden table and watched by two Dwarf Guards with Sentinel Helmets, only able to stare each other down with big eyes and small eyes.
"Just you wait, I'll beat you so bad even your mom won't recognize you," the young man wiped soup from his forehead with his hand, utterly disgusted, while he ground his teeth and spoke.
"Likewise," Fang Hong retorted without any better mood. He had hit his head on the ground when the Dwarves pushed him down, bruising a large area. Clearly, he felt this account should also be settled with the other party.
The Dwarf Referee shook his head at the two problem children.
He came over and, looking up at Fang Hong, said, "If the person from the Artisan Association doesn't come back, then you still have plenty of time to adjust your condition—"
