"You... aren't a ratman!"
Platinum Embrace's eyes grew brighter and brighter. At last, he understood where the sense of discord he had felt from the moment he first saw Meng Chao had come from.
The man before him was absolutely not a ratman rebel.
Not because of his combat power, capable of slaying tigers and butchering wolves.
But because of his calm, unhurried attitude.
One had to know that, after ratmen had been oppressed by the nobles for a thousand years, even the outstanding figures among the ratman rebels—even brave warriors who dared charge Clan Warriors clad in Totem Armor—could not help revealing an indescribable mixture of hatred, fury, and inferiority when facing a high-ranking lion noble like Platinum Embrace.
Either they would project all the humiliation they had suffered in the past onto their enemies tenfold, venting to their hearts' content the savage delight of "So you have a day like this too."
Or, because they longed for the recognition of great figures yet dared not admit it, they would instead seem flustered and at a loss.
Yet Platinum Embrace sensed neither kind of emotion from Meng Chao.
It was as though, from the very beginning, Meng Chao had not invested even the slightest personal emotion into this game.
Instead, he had treated Platinum Embrace, Destroyer's Horn, Raging Blade, Jackal Kanus, and even himself as trump cards, chess pieces, and bargaining chips.
This was absolutely not a level of detachment that a ratman rebel should possess.
Even Platinum Embrace himself, after becoming caught in such a tangled web of schemes, could not maintain the stillness of water in his heart.
As if possessed by ghosts and driven by gods, Platinum Embrace suddenly thought that this mysterious man, who called himself a ratman rebel yet spoke in polished phrases and