At this moment, inside the cages, there was a VIP-level cell. It was spacious, and packed with food.
A little girl who looked five or six years old, dressed in Gothic clothing, was stuffing her mouthful after mouthful. Her stomach seemed like a bottomless pit, and the food around her visibly dwindled.
She was clearly a slave, yet there were no chains on her at all—because she had eaten them all. The Fite Family had been pained by the cost of those chains and did not dare put any more on the little girl, afraid they would become her food again.
A few breaths later, all the food around her had been devoured clean, with a full two or three tons vanishing.
"Ah, I'm so hungry."
The little girl's stomach rumbled, yet she was still unsatisfied. To her, that bit of food was merely an after-meal dessert—about as much as a single soup dumpling.
"Soldiers! Soldiers! Where the hell have you all died off to? Where's the food? Why hasn't it been delivered yet? Are you trying to starve your slave to death? Do you know how valuable I am? Is this how you treat a distinguished slave?" the little girl shouted, as though this was not a prison cell but a restaurant.
The soldiers around her all stared at their noses and contemplated their hearts, as if they had heard nothing. They felt utterly stifled too. What slave was this? She was plainly their master.
She had eaten up several years' worth of food from their base. Where were they supposed to find more food for her?
The little girl shouted again, but no one still paid her any attention. In the end, hunger left her sprawled on the floor.
"I'm so hungry. This Fite Family has already been