[Compensation? W-what kind of compensation?] the manager asked in fear, rubbing his hands together. But his line was cut off by Qing Yan.
["Compensation" for trying to kill my comrade, calling him a slave, and for trying to curse me,] Qing Yan said, placing his hand on the table, his cold eyes filled with killing intent.
At that moment, the manager realized—he had well and truly fucked up.
[B-but s-sir, I'm just a mere guild manager,] the man stammered, his hands moving nervously on their own.
[200 gold coins. Get them. Right. NOW,] Qing Yan said in a voice that could freeze fire.
[2-2-200?!?!?! Sir, that much money could fund a fully grown clan with over a hundred members for years! H-how could I possibly have that kind of money?!] the manager trembled, his voice nearly breaking.
[Cut the crap,] Qing Yan snapped. [You—just by the aura surrounding your body—it's obvious you're the kind of man who throws money around without blinking. Don't act like a fool. Either bring me the amount right now... or pay with your life.]
The manager opened his mouth, [S-sir, I-I'll try—] but was cut off once more.
[I said DO IT. Not "try",] Qing Yan said, raising his eyes and releasing a sliver of his qi. The sheer pressure made the air around them feel heavier than iron.
The manager couldn't even speak, let alone move. He felt paralyzed by the sheer killing intent radiating off Qing Yan's body.
Qing Yan stood up slowly.
[You have one hour. Get the money—from wherever you can—or you'll die.]
With that, he turned around and left the guild. Azrien silently followed him out.
The moment the two disappeared, the manager collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.
[Ha... ha... ha...], he panted, sweat pouring down his face. The only thought echoing in his mind was—
[I messed up. For sure.]
Outside, Qing Yan and Azrien soared through the air, flying swiftly toward the inn where the rescued slaves were being held safely.
Azrien glanced at Qing Yan flying ahead of him and asked, [Will you really kill him if he fails to gather 200 gold coins within the hour?]
Qing Yan responded without turning, his voice carried by the wind, [You can sense it too, right? That man—his nature, his lifestyle—it's clear. He's the kind of person who spends gold like water. There's no way someone like that would choose 200 coins over his own life.]
[But even if he does...] Qing Yan's tone shifted, less cold, more thoughtful. [...I won't kill him.]
[Oh...?] Azrien replied, curious.
[But—] Qing Yan continued, cutting Azrien off, [—I will torture him. So much that he'll beg for death. And once he's on the edge, he'll spill everything about his wealth. Every coin. Every secret. If he decides to submit now, he'll live—sure, not exactly a great life, but a decent one. But if he dares to gamble with his life...]
Qing Yan's eyes narrowed, his voice dropped low, sharp as a blade.
[...I'll make him pay back tenfold.]
Azrien stayed silent for a moment, then glanced again at Qing Yan's back—his presence flickering between light and shadow.
[Well, I guess... the divine and the demonic aren't balanced very well after all,] he thought to himself.