O Bruto Rouba a Esposa: Rei, o Canário que Você Criou Fugiu

In the imperial capital, the streets were crowded with peddlers and hawkers, their cries rising and falling without end, each buying and selling in orderly bustle.

But the sudden intrusion of a group of men shattered the street’s harmony at once.

In the heat of midsummer, dozens of tall men strode down the road wrapped in animal hides, fierce and swaggering, sending children fleeing in all directions.

“Hand over the silk! Your granddaddy’s fists are no ornaments!” shouted the leader, scowling like a demon as he brandished his fist to frighten people.

The young peddler stared at the tiger skin in front of him, still dripping blood, and trembled all over.

“Mercy, noble sir. This humble one begs you spare me. In the capital, in the capital, there has never been any custom of barter.”

“Spare me your damned nonsense! That’s how it is on the grasslands. Are you trading or not?” The man was broad-backed and broad-shouldered, his voice rough and booming.

The peddler was too young after all, and the sound terrified him into a heap on the ground. Soon, a pool of yellow liquid spread from beneath him.

“Damn it all! Look at the cowardly state of these Central Plains rats. Useless!” With that, the man kicked over the stall, and brocade and fine silk spilled across the street.

A lean man in white behind him hurried to stop him.

“General, you must not act rashly. This month alone, you have already beaten three Central Plains men to death. If the Khan learns of it, he will surely send you back out of the Central Plains.”