Fu Tong, Fu Teng, and Fu Sheng continued moving toward Fu Fong.
Their steps were slow but steady.
Each step seemed heavier than the last, and the pressure in the air grew thicker. The watching exiles had completely stopped what they were doing. Some even stood on their toes to see better.
Fu Fong kept backing away.
His earlier arrogance had completely disappeared.
"What are you doing?!" he shouted again, his voice no longer as confident as before. "Stay away from me!"
But the three men did not stop.
Fu Tong stretched his shoulders lazily as he walked.
"Brother Fong," he said casually, "why are you so nervous?"
Fu Teng nodded slightly beside him.
"You were the one who said discipline is important."
Fu Sheng didn't speak. His expression remained calm, but his gaze was cold and firm.
Fu Fong's back soon hit a cart behind him.
He had nowhere left to go.
His eyes darted around desperately, looking for someone, anyone to help him.
His gaze landed on the guards.
