Verus stared in horror at the smooth expanse beneath his waist. His body was, after all, the divine body of a High-God; the wound had already healed on its own, leaving behind a smooth, delicate stretch of flat skin. He let out a hoarse, heart-rending scream, then shrieked at Blackbeard in terror, despair, and towering fury, "You'll regret this! I swear it! I'll take revenge for everything you've done to me—I definitely will!"
Blackbeard folded his arms across his chest and laughed loudly at the clansmen beside him. "Where did this stupid bird come from? He dared snatch food from the jaws of our Black Tiger Family? And he dared threaten us with words like that? Heh heh heh, we were scared big from childhood!"
The Black Tiger clansmen burst into laughter. They looked mockingly at Verus, whose face was smeared with snot and tears as he lay limply on the ground, unable to move, and all of them kept shaking their heads. Such a spineless fool dared come looking for trouble with the Black Tiger Family? He dared seize spoils from their hands? Did he even know how the word "death" was written—or pronounced?
"Playing black-eats-black, and you played it right onto our heads!" Butcher Knife gave a cold, snickering laugh and shook his head disdainfully. "Children, keep attacking. Wipe out all these stupid elves... no, no, no—capture them alive if you can! Elf slaves are in great demand! Whether they're handsome elf men or beautiful elf women, they can fetch a hefty price!"
Stomping his foot hard, Butcher Knife shouted sharply, "Those old elves with white hair and white beards have no reason to exist! Kill them, strip them bare! Those old elf men and women can't be sold for money—what, are we keeping them to boil soup?"