"Brother... is it really you?"
Li Yao's voice was still trembling. His dirt-caked hand hovered in mid-air, wanting to touch him but not daring to.
Ian stepped forward and used a relatively clean part of his sleeve to wipe the grime from the boy's face.
"It's me." His voice was quiet, but every word was steady.
The surrounding crowd was still reeling from the scene that had just unfolded.
Three Rot Beetles had been pinned to the ground in the blink of an eye by the young man who had appeared out of nowhere.
The silver light on the tip of his sword had yet to fade completely, and the acrid, scorched stench of the beetles' bodily fluids hung in the air.
"Li Yao, you know him?"
Chen Scarface walked over, blade in hand. The scar on his face looked particularly sinister under the sky's light.
His gaze swept back and forth between Ian and Li Yao before finally landing on the Iron Sword in Ian's hand, which was still dripping with black blood.
