A total of one hundred and twenty-seven Shieldaxe Dwarves were at a loss for words, like eggplants hit by frost, after Lord Saint Xiao's remarks. The Golden Dwarves stood nearby, everyone dressed in genuine leather collars and shiny boots, while they wore ragged clothes woven from tree fibers, each of them standing barefoot with dirty feet.
"It's not our fault." Tofding, the chief of the Shieldaxe Dwarves, blushing with shame, seemed to have no neck at first glance, his body was a sturdy square shape. He mumbled in defense for a long time, "We are the guardian Duijlar of the four sky pillars... hermits secluded from the world... all self-sufficient in food and clothing... there's no way to be particular about living standards..."
