"Damn peasants, dare to hit my people?!"
With a slap on the wooden table, Henderson cursed with a fierce expression.
Henderson truly hadn't expected that just because of preparations to hunt wolves, he lost track, and within three weeks, over 20 households of villagers defected.
Just because someone helped you harvest two acres of land? Is this loyalty really so cheap?
Covering his chest, Henderson forcibly suppressed his anger.
He turned his head and saw the morning light shining on that idler's buttocks, a clear bluish-purple mark visible, even the outline of a footprint could be discerned.
"Head of Henderson Manor, this kick wasn't to my butt, it was clearly a kick to your face!" The idler lying on the bench cried out, seemingly pulling on his wound with too much movement, and he couldn't help but howl in pain again.
Three to five other idlers echoed, as if the kick landed on them.
