"Don't get all worked up, Pharos," came a light laugh. "You might lose what little hair you have left."
Like an echo in human form, the Black Flame Grandmaster appeared beside them. And with his arrival, the space ruptured three more times. Out stepped the Mistress of the Mystic Moon Sect, robed in dark garments embroidered with crescent moons. Following closely were the Golden Dragon Grandmaster and the Master of the Burning Phoenix Clan.
Their gazes collided like drawn blades.
"Had I known you'd arrive first, Pharos," said the Mistress with a faint smile, "I might've hurried up. We could have warmed up with a bit of mental sparring before the usual halfwits tried to set the world ablaze again."
"Sad to say," snapped the Golden Dragon Grandmaster, his glare sharp, "but with your level of intellect, even Aldrich's idiot son could outwit you."
The Mistress didn't even flinch. She kept her soft smile trained on Pharos, which only made the Golden Dragon Grandmaster's scowl deepen.
