"The Tark Patriarch allowed you to play this game of throwing Gladiators into worm bellies."
"Because your Mori Family is on good terms with the Tark Family."
"But you picked the wrong people, kid."
"..."
Qin Xa and Angron emerged from the stomach of the dead worm.
The primarch, who had been excited by the snowy environment moments ago, now felt an intense sense of dislocation upon seeing the outside world.
Behind them was a "cave" filled with drifting snowflakes and piled-up snow, while outside lay scorching Red Sand and the corpse of a giant worm several hundred meters long.
Qin Xa did not feel anything in particular. He was staring at a spot a hundred meters away.
More than twenty Praetorian Guards, all equipped with weapons known as Silver Vine.
Before the twenty-odd Praetorian Guards stood a young High-Rider.
And before the young High-Rider was an acquaintance Qin Xa had met not long ago—the Stone Man named Brown.
"Sorry, I don't care what your patriarch thinks." The young High-Rider wore an arrogantly wild expression. "Slaves, Gladiators—they're lower than even commoners. I play with the commoners on your Tark Family's territory all the same. What, am I not allowed to play with these Gladiators?"
Seeing the High-Rider's frivolous and overbearing expression, Qin Xa frowned and overlapped his palms.
Sensing the psychic fluctuations, Brown—who had somehow appeared here and had been negotiating with the High-Rider who had captured Qin Xa and Angron for amusement—immediately turned around and raised a hand toward Qin Xa, signaling, "Please let me handle this."
Qin Xa looked at Brown.
"Valles. Valles Mori!"
Brown gave the High-Rider plenty of respect. Although the veins on his forehead bulged and he looked as if he were gritting his teeth, he still addressed the young High-Rider before him by his