Haoran tilted his head, his golden eyes scanning the remaining figures with a predatory calmness that was far more terrifying than any overt display of rage.
Even though the tri-color aura had faded, but the presence he exuded was still heavy, thick with the weight of a bloodline that sat at the apex of the universe.
He stood in the center of the scorched arena, the wind whistling through the dust of pulverized pillars, and he let out a short, melodic laugh that lacked any warmth.
"No one?" Haoran asked, his voice echoing with a mocking resonance. "None of you are going to make a move? Imagine that. After all that grand posturing, none of you actually has to courage to confront me. It seems aside from Shen Tao, who actually had the spine to stand and bleed for his beliefs, none of you deserve to be in the Ten Crowns. Looking at you now, I think we should just rename this little group. Tao's Crown... and the Nine Bandanas. Or perhaps the Nine Servants? Which do you prefer?"
