"We had some wonderful memories together, but I wasn't here to see him tonight, so relax," Zhang Heng told the Black Tail Snake, who looked as though he were facing a formidable enemy. Then his gaze swept around the tavern before finally settling on a Black man in the corner.
The man looked like an ordinary drinker. Unlike the Black Tail Snake, he was not surrounded by subordinates, nor did he have a beautiful dwarf in his arms. The food on his table was meager too: half a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. No matter how one looked at him, he did not seem like any important figure.
Yet Zhang Heng said, "You must be Iron Shackles."
"Why do you say that? We shouldn't have met before," the Black man countered.
"You're the only one in the tavern sitting far away from everyone else. Or, rather, everyone else is afraid to get too close to you. Clearly, they fear you. Also, that dwarf instinctively wanted to look in your direction just now. Of course, the main reason is that Soap told me what you looked like and everything else about you."
Zhang Heng paused before continuing, "You used to be a slave. You ran away several times, but you were always caught and brought back, fitted with iron shackles, and subjected to plenty of torture. That was how you got your nickname. Then one day, your former master was found dead in his own livestock shed, with a pitchfork through his back. They suspected you, but with no evidence, the matter was eventually dropped. Your former master's son sold you to another household. Two years later, your new master also met with an accident, but before he died, he made a will freeing twenty slaves. You were