Feng Bujue walked to stand before Hank. He seemed to wish to say something, but he did not launch straight into it, instead pausing to think about it. Hank was overwhelmed with fear, and he regarded this 'outsider' nervously. He could not even begin to fathom what was on the man's mind, and Feng Bujue's silence formed an invisible pressure around him.
After about thirty seconds, Feng Bujue took out the pistol from his inventory and asked, "Do you know what this is?"
Hank shook his head.
"This is a type of weapon popular in the twentieth to twenty-first century," Feng Bujue said. "You should understand the meaning of the term 'weapon', right?"
Hank nodded cautiously. "I do… but… what is a century?"
Feng Bujue thought to himself, Even the concept of century is lost… Looks like they're seriously enslaved.
