The old tailor was stripped and tied to a telephone pole with an iron chain. Under the gazes of the crowd, his old face was flushed with shame. He was already speechless. He just clasped his hands together as he begged, but the "Impressionist" wasn’t fazed. He was fiddling with the combination lock seriously.

The "Impressionist" said, "This is a combination lock with six digits. If you have the ability, try to open it yourself, or if you pay the money, we’ll open it for you..." Then he looked around at everyone. "No one is allowed to give him food or drinks. Otherwise, you’ll be locked with this old thing, understood?"

Everyone nodded.

The "Impressionist" sniffed hard and took out a list of creditors from his pocket. "Who is the other cunt named XX?"

The crowd pointed to a man. "That’s him!"

The man was so scared...