The Plague Gods and the Mad Dogs

After Xia Lin and the others left Blues Estate.

Grego, the guard who had been standing behind Sotowa, finally could not hold back any longer and stepped forward. "My lord, we're really going to listen to those outsiders? Even if they have some skill, this is Iceport after all—"

The humble, frightened expression on Sotowa's face vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold and vicious look.

He walked to the window, watched Xia Lin and the others' retreating figures, and let out a sinister sneer.

"A threat? Hmph, do you think I don't want to cut them into a thousand pieces?" Sotowa paced through the hall. "But now is not the time to act on impulse."

"That Xia Lin · Tolemo..." His voice dropped even lower. "Didn't you notice? The aura around that brat is not something an ordinary adventurer should possess."

Grego frowned. "My lord means...?"

"Mythical Power." Sotowa spat out the words, his expression ugly. "I felt it just now."

"The same pressure I felt when I glimpsed that Archbishop from afar in Talos years ago." His hand trembled slightly. "People like that aren't someone we can confront head-on."

Grego fell silent.

As Sotowa's most trusted guard, he naturally understood what Mythical Power meant. It was the gulf between mortals and demigods.

"So," Sotowa's tone relaxed, "the top priority is to get these plague gods out of here as quickly as possible."

"As for Frostfang—ha!" He waved dismissively. "They're just a pack of wild dogs that can be used or discarded. Throw them away and find another pack. The Northlands lack nothing more than desperate outlaws."

Grego nodded. That did fit his lord's usual way of doing things—pursuing profit, avoiding harm, and never confronting trouble head-on.

But just as he thought the matter was over, Sotowa suddenly