In the darkness, more than a dozen pairs of eyes glimmered with an eerie light. Like venomous snakes lurking in a cave, they all stared at the helm master, waiting for him to speak.
The helm master, who had been sitting there languidly, finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in decades, and every word carried weight.
"Why aren't the lamps lit?"
A Demonic Cult steward respectfully replied, "Helm Master, you've forgotten. At the last meeting, you said you'd attended a meeting with your superiors, talked about the atmosphere there, and said our Yanjiang Helm didn't feel like the Demonic Cult."
"I thought about it, and you were right. Our Yanjiang Helm ranks at the bottom among all the branch helms. Maybe that's the reason."
"So I thought, don't stories always say that our Demonic Cult likes plotting schemes and tricks in dark places? I deliberately told the servants not to light the lamps."
"And I must say, without the lamps, it really does feel like a place for doing bad things."
Clearly, the steward had a very clear understanding of his own behavior. He knew the Demonic Cult wasn't a place for doing good.
The helm master fell silent for a long while, wondering if the steward was indirectly hinting that he wanted to leave the cult. Was he suggesting that the Yanjiang Helm's monthly allowance hadn't increased in ages? Or that they should buy insurance for the cult members?
He probably doesn't want to leave the cult.
The man had always worked diligently at doing bad things. He didn't distinguish between friend and foe, doing bad things out in the world and causing trouble for his own people within the Demonic Cult. He was a truly rotten scoundrel.
*He doesn't want a higher allowance,