In the carriage, no one spoke.
Some were nervous, some were scared, with beads of sweat trickling down from the heads of some, yet still, no one spoke.
Is the Flame Demon King Buck oppressing them?
Of course!
They once lived in luxury, as mages of clans and sects, their status was noble.
Their accommodations, food, and clothing were of the highest quality.
But now?
They were cramped in a carriage, eating barely edible food, their magic power sealed, like prisoners.
Is this not oppression?
Can this not be resisted?
But no one spoke.
If the answer is yes, would this evil and cunning Flame Demon King burn them directly?
If the answer is no, then what have they been doing these days? Who are they dissatisfied with?
How to answer this question became their problem.
"Is it not?"
Finally, Daisa spoke in a low and hoarse voice.
He clenched his fists, his dirty, clumped white beard trembling slightly, whether from fear, anger, or both.
