Golden Gallon Port.
The Port District Guard Bureau faced Golden Gallon Port's busiest street, where crowds surged back and forth.
Governor Nihac stood in the middle of the street, staring blankly at the unfamiliar, spacious avenue. His eyes were full of confusion, and for a moment, he could not even recognize where he was.
The streets were clean and tidy, the Western-style houses painted white, and black streetlamps stood tall. Everything seemed the same as before.
Yet unlike before, the clamor was deafening. People bustled through the streets, while some street performers rode on two or three wheels, weaving swiftly through the crowd.
There was no trace left of Tulip Street's dignity and elegance. It looked more like the noisy Krabah Market.
Sure enough.
Everything here had gone completely to hell.
"You're free."
Someone said that behind him. The voice was somewhat cold, even carrying a hint of mockery.
"Thank you..."
Nihac answered instinctively, only realizing afterward that this was not something he should have said.
He shot the prison guard a vicious glare, flicked his sleeve, and stepped into the street. But because he had been looking behind himself as he walked, he bumped into a child carrying a huge stack of papers.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, old man!" the child shouted at him indignantly, but did not linger to argue.
Time was money. Instead of wasting time talking nonsense, he would rather make a few more trips and earn a few more gallons.
However, Nihac had no intention of letting the brat off. His face flushed red as he reached out to grab the little devil by the neck.
"What did you call me... You, do you know who I am?!"
"Who cares who you are? You're not one of those Iron Men!" The child nimbly dodged