Layton Family, rear mountain temple.
"From here, all other mountains look small. This is a fine place." The white-haired man sat cross-legged, sipping tea from his cup as he smiled at the man opposite him. "What a rare display of refinement."
The man across from him merely smiled without replying. He picked up his cup and gently pushed it forward.
The man had black hair and wore silver robes, dressed in a traditional Chinese-style outfit with Buddhist prayer beads in hand. An inscrutable smile rested on his face.
His violet eyes were like the finest crystals, their deep whirlpools capable of drawing in one's soul.
"Rare indeed. Mr. Coleman is truly difficult to arrange a meeting with!" the black-haired man remarked. He raised a hand and pointed down the mountain. "Forgive my presumptuousness, but when do you think those rats will make it to the summit?"
The white-haired man—Coleman—lifted his gaze. There was amusement in his eyes, but that smile was like three feet of ice, chilling to the bone.
"Even a full day and night might not be enough." Coleman toyed with the cross pendant hanging from his wrist, smiling faintly. "Three days ago, you said I was cruel. But it seems Mr. Garnet is no better."
"Your grandfather is ill, perhaps not long for this world, yet you, his direct grandson, are leisurely drinking tea and chatting with an outsider. If word of this gets out..."
A crimson glint flashed through Coleman's eyes as he sneered. "I'm afraid you'll lose your position as family head!"
"Ha!" Garnet seemed amused by that. The smile in his violet eyes deepened, yet they remained filled with indifference. "When it comes to filial piety, naturally I can't compare to my uncles. Look at them now—aren't they all down there, 'competing' to show