"You little bastard, if you keep plucking the feathers of me—your grandpa—then I’m going to fight you to the death…."
"F*ck you! Don’t push your luck. Even I am scared of myself when I become angry…."
"Stop plucking them, they’re your grandpa’s life and blood! Every single one of them will need days to grow back and mend….
"Mother of lord, did I not tell you to stop? Why can’t we sit down and talk it through like civilized people?" The pain was too much and the golden crow erupted into a frenzy of words. At first it threatened, then begged, followed shortly by loud curses before it returned to more begging. Whenever the crow cursed, Fang Xing would respond with his own obscenities while continuing to pluck the feathers a handful at a time. It didn’t take long before the ground around them was scattered with golden feathers, and the shimmering was a rather pleasant sight.
