The more Hwa Jian talked, the angrier he got, though he knew his own limitations. Going out there to confront them would be suicide, so he focused on holding down the fort, securing the doors, and activating the shop's defense systems, just as the boss had instructed. No one was getting inside on his watch.
Kim Haru followed Hwa Jian's gaze toward the instigators.
Amid the chaotic crowd, the seven of them stood out.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven people, each with a different hair color—red, green, yellow, purple—but no normal black. To top it off, these bright exotic colors adorned the heads of the seven burly men, and their hair wasn't short and practical, but semi-long, some even brushing their shoulders.
Kim Haru: "…"
My eyes. They hurt.
