Upon witnessing the unfolding scene, neither the mustached man nor his group of bounty hunters said a word.
After all, they were men who lived in the grey zones of society, individuals accustomed to committing their fair share of heinous acts.
Being laughed at or even pelted with rotten eggs by victims or onlookers was nothing new to them.
Compared to the humiliation they had faced before, the disdainful glares and mocking jeers of the capital's citizens were no more than a drizzle—something utterly trivial.
However, the masked middle-aged man thought differently.
While it was true that bounty hunters were not well-regarded anywhere in the world,
for most people, their existence had become a kind of numb inevitability.
To put it bluntly—
as long as the bounty notice didn't have my name on it,
even if you bounty hunters decapitated a king,
what business was it of mine?
But today's situation was different—subtly but crucially so.
