Fine, I'll stay in the capital for a while. As long as the Crown Prince hasn't given up, he certainly won't let me die.
Han Laoba closed his eyes in the corner. If it weren't for the faint breathing sounds that could still be heard, everyone would have thought he was dead.
His body was almost entirely covered in wounds. There were numerous brand marks and countless whip marks.
"Hey, you stinking beggar, you've taken over my territory."
Han Laoba was resting with his eyes closed when he was suddenly kicked.
He opened his eyes and saw four or five beggars looking down at him.
"I told you he wasn't dead, didn't I?"
One beggar said smugly, while the others sneered:
"You've taken our seats."
Hearing this, Han Laoba frowned unhappily:
"Is this your place?"
"Yeah, hey, what happened to you? How did you get beaten up like this?"
A little beggar was quite curious.
"Get out of the way, move away from here."
The other one was equally blunt.
"Get up quickly, my brothers have bad tempers."
The only one who seemed relatively easy to talk to stepped forward to help Han Laoliu up.
Unfortunately, Han Laoliu was too badly injured, and the little beggar was too small, so they tried several times but couldn't get it to work.
"Hmph, you're not leaving, huh?"
The beggars got angry and started attacking without saying a word.
They were punching and kicking him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be afraid of a few beggars, let alone a dozen or so Han Laolius.
But now, how can he possibly fight back?
I'll beat you to death!
The men beat him fiercely, and Han Laoliu felt his vision blurring.
He could no longer feel pain; the days in the dungeon were too painful, and he had gotten used to it.
Is he going to die? Die so miserably?
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