But they were too lazy to waste any more words; money was already a minor issue; pride was more crucial. A person rebelling against them, without any consequences, would spread the word and no longer frighten ordinary people.
"Damn it! Have you ever seen what a dirty hand is?"
Speaking, one person directly pulled out a knife and went for it; after all, it wasn't like they hadn't killed anyone before, let alone a foreigner.
The next second, a scream of agony rang out.
But the scream wasn't from the Clown; it was from the person who stretched out the knife.
"My hand!"
The man screamed, trying to press down on the wound, but it was still difficult to control the spurting blood.
The other two then saw his hand severed at the wrist, the hand holding the knife fell to the ground.
This situation startled them; they looked up at the Clown and finally noticed the sickle in his hand.
Damn it! They encountered a ruthless person.
