Yu Xuan wove his way through the factory. The scorching heat from the Forging Furnaces made the air feel blistering. A layer of cold mist rose from his body, coalescing into ice armor, after which his expression finally eased.
He made his way to a secret room in the deepest part of the factory. After waiting for a long time, Zhou Xian arrived, the sleeve of his right arm still hanging empty. His expression was placid. "He agreed?"
"Yes." Yu Xuan nodded, a hint of smugness in his tone. "At the end of the day, he's just from a refugee background. He doesn't have the power to resist."
These words made Zhou Xian's face darken considerably. "Are you implying that my inability to deal with him is because I'm not capable enough?"
Yu Xuan shrugged. He didn't show much reverence for Zhou Xian, a tiger brought low. "That's not what I meant."
