"How did this happen? Why won't this wood catch fire?"
Wu Biao said. It was the first time he had found the lack of Hellfire so inconvenient. Otherwise, forget a few tree trunks—Brother Biao could have burned down the entire forest.
"But when did so many people show up?" One hand holding up a massive log to smoke-dry a pile of clothes, he scratched his chin with the other. "Could they be here to hold a feast? After all, there's so much food in this forest. It's the perfect place for a banquet."
"How could that be..."
A faint mutter came from behind Brother Biao. Looking over, one could see a bruised and swollen young man, one hand covering his front and the other his rear, without a stitch of clothing on his body.
Bertrand Jean was miserable—so miserable he was close to going mad. Before entering this forest, he had been brimming with excitement, ready to pursue his grand ambitions. This practical examination would have been the starting point of his glorious path through the second half of his life!
Yet, looking at that pile of burning clothes, he suddenly felt that his ambitions were terribly far away.
This brat, who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, had punched him awake from his dreams with one heavy blow after another...
And it hurt so much...
Bertrand's face was stiff. He did not even dare twitch. Wasn't that strength a little too outrageous?
And who exactly was this brat?
He definitely was not from the recruit camp. There were only so many people there, and after half a year together, Bertrand could not possibly fail to recognize him—especially with such an eye-catching bald head.
Still, clothes were the most urgent issue right now.
He had wanted to take advantage