Zhang San felt a chill run down his spine, rubbing his arm as he glanced around: "Little brother, don't laugh like that, it's too creepy. Look around, it's all graves here. Hearing your laughter, I felt as if hundreds of things were crawling out of them—terrifying..."
"Died once already and still so timid."
The dwarf stopped laughing and scoffed, "You want revenge against the Prime Minister? I think you're just an egg striking a rock—asking for death."
"I know it's an egg striking a rock, but I just can't swallow this hatred." Remembering how his wife was taken by force, his son met a cruel fate, and how he'd been imprisoned in the dungeon for over a decade, Zhang San grew angrier the more he thought about it. All of this was thanks to that damned Prime Minister. His family had been torn apart, and he had barely escaped death in that pitch-black dungeon.
If it weren't for the dwarf...
His life might have ended right there.