“You look weak. I think you should turn around and flee now. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee whether you’ll get hurt,” said one of the tattooed men with his hands on his waist. He and his comrades jutted their chins arrogantly at Bridget, leering at her as if she were nothing more than entertainment.

However, deep down, they were excited to see what a weak girl like her could do in a brawl and thought she was an easy opponent to defeat. Although not a word came from Bridget, the men’s impression