Commander Vile, whose spiked gauntlet was still embedded in the curse table, finally exhaled a breath of volatile dark Qi. The surrounding veteran slaughter-captains exchanged uneasy, shadowed glances. They were seasoned murderers, yet they had just been entirely cowed by the sheer, apathetic arrogance of a youth.
As the warlords dispersed to their respective encampments to process this political failure, Quartermaster Jin remained kneeling near the acidic lake. He was practically vibrating with terror.
Commander Vile paused before descending the bone-wrought stairs. He cast a look of profound disgust toward the groveling supplier.
"You orchestrated this farce, Jin," Vile stated, his voice grinding like tectonic plates. "You offered my pavilion three unblemished Paladin cores to forcefully interrogate the Young Master's flesh-mending theories. You explicitly requested that I ignite his temper so you could gauge the true depth of his malice."
