"What do you mean, Heaven's child?" Ravan frowned, his gaze fixed on the Clown.
The dread he'd felt earlier had faded, replaced by cautious curiosity at the strange title the Clown had used to describe that cripple.
The Clown's face was unusually serious. His usual twisted expressions were gone, replaced instead by a faint dread as he looked at Ravan with cloudy eyes.
After a moment of silence, he spoke. "What name would you give to someone with heaven-defying talent? Even the King of Celestials would envy him."
To ordinary people, it might have sounded like he was merely praising that cripple.
But Ravan, an old fox who could read between the lines, knew there was a deeper meaning behind that title.
Though he wanted to ask why the Clown referred to that cripple with such a grand title, Ravan restrained himself.
He knew the Clown wouldn't reveal anything, and he couldn't force him either, not when the man's strength remained unknown.
