Within the Great Flame Dynasty's War God Palace, in the deepest recesses stood a greenhouse made of large panes of glass. Fed by hot spring water and filled with flowers of every kind, it bloomed with a hundred blossoms amid winter's bitter cold.
Yan Chimei, clad in crimson armor with firelight flickering around her, wore an ice-cold expression as she stood silently before an old man in black robes.
Calling him an old man was inaccurate—he was, in truth, a skeleton. Not the sort of skeleton left by someone emaciated to skin and bones; this black-robed elder was a genuine bare skeleton, not a shred of flesh, skin, or hair remaining on him. A pair of thin jade-colored bony wings, like a bat's, grew from his back. Two points of crimson ghostfire flickered within his sunken eye sockets. He was clearly an undead grand lich from the Undead Continent.
"Ah, ah, Your Majesty, it's fine if you mobilize those children to vent your anger, but you should at least inform us first." The skeletal lich admired a crimson rose in rapture and sighed leisurely. "They may not be core members of our Fallen God Temple, but how much white bread and milk did we waste raising them to this age? Not to mention all the other resources spent on them."
"More than a dozen demigods! They were originally stationed at your side as guards, yet you sent them to teach those fools from the Temple of Pleasure a lesson!"
The skeletal lich sighed softly and spread his hands helplessly. "Fine. I only hope they return safely in a few days. Let me be frank with you: if the Great Flame Dynasty wishes to gain a foothold on the continent, it cannot do without the support of our Fallen God Temple.