The little man sneered and said, "Sir, we are civilized people, and we would not do such disgraceful things."

Speaking of this, he muttered in a low voice: "And last year, a law was introduced to prohibit these things..."

"Then what are you betting on?" Klein was curious for a moment.

"Let's see who is a good 'hunter'." Just after the little man finished speaking, there was a commotion in the field.

He turned his head and glanced, waved his hands excitedly and said: "This game has begun, I can't bet anymore, you can wait for the next game."

Hearing this, Klein stood on tiptoe, raised his head, and looked as far as the eye could see. He saw two strong men dragging a sack each, coming to the side of the iron cage, opening the "prison door", and dumping the contents inside.

Those are gray, disgusting animals!

Klein carefully identified it, and found that it was a mouse, dozens of hundreds of mice!

Because the bottom of the iron cage is deep into the ground, there is no gap, and the mice scurry around, but they cannot escape.

At this time, as the cage door was closed, the chains of the two dogs were untied.

"Wow!" The black dog rushed over and killed a mouse with one bite.

The black and white dog looked confused at first, then excitedly played with the mice.

The people around were either holding their glasses of wine, staring intently, or yelling loudly: "Bite it to death! Kill it to death!"

"Doug Doug!"

...God damn dog catching mice... Klein came to his senses, the corners of his mouth twitching.

The gamble here turned out to be on which dog catches more mice...

Maybe I can bet on a few more...

No wonder people have been buying live rats on Iron Cross Street...

It's really unique...

Klein shook his head, backed away laughingly, walked around the crowd of drinkers from the edge, and came to the front of the bar.

"A new face?" the bartender looked up at him as he wiped his glass. "Rye beer is 1p a glass, Enmat is 2p, Southwell is 4p, or would you like a single malt Ronzi?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Wright." Klein said bluntly.

The bartender whistled and shouted to the side: "Old man, someone is looking for you."

"Well, who is it..." A vague voice came out, and a drunken old man stood behind the bar.

He rubbed his eyes, looked at Klein and said, "Young man, are you looking for me?"

"Mr. Wright, I want to hire a mercenary team to do the mission." Klein replied according to Dunn's instructions.

"Mercenary squad? Are you living in an adventure story? There is no such thing!" the bartender interrupted with a smile.

Wright was silent for a few seconds and said, "Who told you to come here to look for it?"

"Dunn, Dunn Smith." Klein answered truthfully.

Wright suddenly laughed: "I see, in fact...the mercenary squad still exists, but in a different form, with a name that is more relevant to today's society. You can find one on the second floor of No. 36 Zouterand Street. " JrNovels.com