"Damn it! Do you have to be pretty to be a heartbreaker these days?!"
Seeing that Yan Huan had climbed onto the battlements, the old man hurriedly called for the guards to bring over the safety cushion.
"He could've picked any time to die, but he chose now...!"
"Tourists are already gathering. We have to resolve this quickly before it gets any worse!"
The old man raised his megaphone and shouted toward the top of the gate.
"Hey, young man up there! Think it over! There's still so much in this world worth living for!"
Meanwhile, the guards had spread the safety cushions across every spot where Yan Huan might land.
Only when everything was ready did the old man relax.
If they saved the young man, the tourists would praise the Xuan Feng tribesmen for their virtue.
Perhaps even more people would attend the festival in person.
The High Priest might even commend him for it.
At the thought, a smile spread across the old man's face.
Today's the day I make a name for myself!
"Young man, you..."
The old man had meant to say a few more kind words and win over the crowd. Instead, Yan Huan unfurled an enormous strip of red cloth from the battlements, letting it hang down the wall.
Several large, crooked characters were written on it.
"ALL XUAN FENG TRIBESMEN ARE TRASH"
"?" The old man's breath caught.
The guards and tourists below froze too. Before they could make sense of it, Yan Huan ran to the right and unfurled another strip of red cloth.
"NIKADORI WILL DROP DEAD SOONER OR LATER"
Then he hung a banner across the battlements.
"CITY OF STRIFE, GATE OF WIMPS"
"?"
"??"
"???"
For a moment, everyone beneath the inner city gate stood dumbfounded.
Had they