"This... what is going on here?" The County Magistrate could barely get his words out.
Uncle Master, standing off to the side, swallowed hard and stammered, "I heard, I heard... the Fire-Swallowing Tribe always dances wildly to celebrate before eating."
"They're dancing at us—does that mean..." The steward was visibly frightened.
"They're treating us as food??" The Useless Son blurted in terror.
All thirty-some Strong Guys simultaneously swallowed their saliva in one big gulp.
There were about a thousand Wild People here, and they could easily toss all thirty-some of them into a pot and still not have enough to fill their teeth's gaps. Judging by their robust appearance and the way they had just leapt expertly from the trees onto the Horse Carriage, holding knives to their own throats to take control of the situation, it was clear these were no ordinary beings.
Facing them felt no different than facing an army of ten thousand.
The entire group couldn't help but shiver in fear.
