"Vic, tell me honestly, are there going to be more slave traders coming?"
Vic nodded, "Yes, but Uncle, don't worry, Silver Moon and I will handle it."
The Manager looked worried, "How can I not worry? These slave traders died miserably, the ones to come will probably be even more vicious, and then..."
"Then a damn thing!" A nearby Ulyssian's forehead veins bulged as he heard this, "I've had enough, retreating, retreating, and in the end, we still die. I'd rather die fighting under the moonlight with Silver Moon and Vic than die a cowardly death!"
This was a roar from the heart, the release after long suppression.
A shout inspired more Ulyssians; their blood surged. Were it not for their fear of Bai Fu, they would have thrown her into the air.
"You..." The Manager's face stiffened.
Vic sighed, "Uncle, you're old."
The Manager stood still, unable to speak. Was he really old?
