"That's good."
Sinking Mountain King felt a weight lift from his heart. "One look at this slave king tells me he bears a deep grudge against the imperial clans. If he cannot be controlled, we must eliminate him as soon as possible."
"Haha!"
"Seventh Uncle, don't worry."
Flameflow Imperial Heir seemed unconcerned. "Blood River King is hardly the only one who resents the imperial clans. I'd say at least seventy or eighty percent of the slave kings among the slave races feel the same way."
"No matter, no matter."
"They're nothing but weaklings, no better than ants. If they didn't bear a grudge, I'd be worried."
"It seems... you're right."
Sinking Mountain King gave a rueful laugh.
Of course. They were slaves and food, yet they could think. Barring a few exceptions, it would be stranger if they felt no resentment.
The chief of the Rock Demon Clan stood respectfully in place, taking no part in the imperial kings' conversation.
"Seventh Uncle, can we still win over the other kings...?"
Flameflow Imperial Heir asked, a trace of worry in his voice.
After all he had been through, he was growing quickly. He was not nearly as callow as he appeared. Much of the time, the innocence he showed the world was an act he put on without even thinking.
"It will be difficult, Imperial Heir."
"I've spread word that Blood River King is your avatar. The kings have gone from utterly furious to merely furious. It has eased matters a little, but not enough."
Sinking Mountain King's voice was grave.
"We have already lost the moral high ground."
"At this point, only killing will do. We must slaughter them until terror grips their hearts, until rivers of blood run, kings' heads fall one after another, and blood spills across the