He had assassinated rival nobles and slaughtered demonic beasts.
But looking into the dark, blazing, unyielding eyes of a sixteen-year-old chef who had just blown a carriage apart with a single kick, the Commander felt a very real, very profound sense of mortal dread.
"Martial Uncle Lin," Mo stammered, his eyes darting nervously toward Yichen, who simply smiled and offered a lazy wave of his fan, giving the Commander silent permission to spill the sect's darkest secrets.
***
"The Blood-Iron Syndicate," Commander Mo began, his voice tight, "is not a standard bandit troupe. They are a conglomerate of rogue cultivators, deserters from orthodox sects, and demonic practitioners. Their leader is a man known as Blood-Hand Tu. He is a peak Golden Core expert, bordering on the Nascent Soul realm."
Ji'an's jaw tightened. "A Golden Core expert is hiding in a muddy ravine, stealing supply carts? Why?"
