"That kid too? Hmph!"
The fettered geezer in a corner of the cell shook his head exasperatedly.
What good was throwing a punch when it only relieved their frustrations for a second?
All it really got them was a world of pain, and was that worth it?
The geezer was hence pursing his lips, sighing at Scarface's brainless actions that would earn him disproportionate retribution.
However, even the geezer had to admit that he was itching for this—at this very moment, his long dormant heart felt a strange anticipation.
Clang.
Dropping the branding iron on the floor, Frank glanced at his reddened palm for a moment before tearing the leather shackles off his wrists.
Then, as the inmates in the surrounding cells looked on, he walked straight toward Tigris and said calmly, "Take me to your leader. I'd like to talk to him since I have pressing matters elsewhere—I have no time to waste here."
His calm, arrogant words left the inmates shocked.
"Shit, who's this character?"
"Seeing the warden? Is he suicidal?"
Tigris could hear the buzzing crowd and found Frank utterly disrespectful.
He could see from the way Frank freed himself that Frank was a martial artist, but even martial artists did not get to strut here in Blackwater!
HIs eyes narrowing above his pudgy cheeks, he growled, "You brat… If you want to die sooner, you don't need to bother the warden. I can help you with that."
The jailer was actually Birthright ranked!
"Watch out!"
Scarface, who was panting after taking down the flunkie, barely had the time to react when he saw Tigris launching a jab at Frank's face.
And judging from the thick pure vigor enveloping Tigris' knuckle, he was not just intent on beating Frank—he clearly intended to kill!
If the punch struck true…
Scarface flinched—if he were in Frank's face, his face would blow up like a watermelon, with the pieces scattering everywhere.
And Frank was not even protecting himself with pure vigor—that meant he was a vigor wielder at best, even if he had just proven that he was a martial artist by freeing himself!
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