White Mask was so furious his teeth ached, and he wanted to grind them to pieces.
But he could only seethe in silence. He dared not lash out at Randall.
And so Flesh Ball became his punching bag.
"What are you staring at? Get moving!"
White Mask roared, looking as though he wanted to swallow Flesh Ball whole.
"B-but... are we supposed to arrest them or kill them?"
Flesh Ball spoke with sweat covering his face, his gaze darting between Randall and White Mask.
The once all-powerful minister of military affairs was as meek as a quail before these two.
Flesh Ball's words only struck another of White Mask's raw nerves.
"You stupid pig! Didn't he say he calls the shots on this mission?! Why the hell are you asking me?
Are you fucking trying to pick a fight?! Get the fuck on with it! Or I'll twist your fucking head off!"
White Mask shrieked like a shrew hurling abuse in the street.
Even after shouting, he still wasn't satisfied and kicked Flesh Ball.
Flesh Ball went flying like a soccer ball and bounced off the wall.
The pain left Flesh Ball's face twisted in a grimace.
Once the force of the kick had spent itself, Flesh Ball dared not say another word. He hurriedly limped outside to gather the troops.
But before long, Flesh Ball returned to the palace with a group of women.
Randall, White Mask, and the others were all stunned.
How long had he been gone? Less than ten minutes, surely.
Who would have thought someone who looked like such a tub of lard could be so efficient?
No, that wasn't right! Ten minutes wasn't even enough to travel around the entire Kingdom! Where had these women come from?
"What's going on here?" White Mask couldn't