The newly arrived slave had just returned when he saw Rick throwing his weight around, yelling and cursing at the others.
He was immediately frightened.
He stood there, unsure what to do.
Rick turned around and pointed his whip at the new slave. "What's your name?"
"My name is Anqie'er."
"So you have a name. You're not just called something like Wood or Hammer. That's not bad. Pick up the pickaxe and get mining!"
Anqie'er slowly walked over to the pickaxe, picked it up, and began mining.
Had he never seen a pig slaughtered, even if he'd never slaughtered one himself?
Anqie'er was just like that. He watched what the others did and began swinging his pickaxe.
Rick was no different. He copied the masters, shouting orders at the slaves.
It all came so naturally!
By noon, it was time to eat.
Everyone started lining up for food. Anqie'er got his share, but the others blocked his way.
Rick and Tile were walking together.
Tile wasn't surprised by Rick's change. He knew he would've acted the same way in Rick's place.
Still, they talked less than usual that day.
Rick saw the others blocking Tile's way and realized he was being bullied.
Rick put his bread in Tile's hands. "Hold this for me. I'll be right back."
"Oh, and this too." Rick pulled out some dried meat.
Tile stared at him, bewildered. "Wait, how do you have that?"
Rick had no time to answer Tile's question. He was already at the scene of the confrontation.
The people blocking Anqie'er said nothing, and Anqie'er didn't dare speak either. But their intentions were obvious.
They were demanding protection money.
People hurting each other was perfectly normal. After all, none of them dared defy the adults.
But when it came to someone weaker