Heart Demons Spread Like a Plague

"So? You killed him?"

In the spacious hall, Fist Ancestor, the mine's chief commander, sat in his chair and watched the figure prattling on and stirring up trouble with great interest, as though he were watching some adorable pet.

Of course, he could tell that most of what this youth named Pan Lang said was fabricated. The claim that the fire chief had secretly slandered him, the commander, and ruined his reputation was utter nonsense.

Even if it had happened, so what? Why should a superior like him concern himself with the thoughts of slaves? His staff would naturally study the slaves' minds, then make arrangements to divert their resentment toward the Divine Clan while exploiting them, rather than letting it target him, the one directly inflicting evil upon them.

If there had to be an object for their hatred, it only mattered that it was not him.

"...This little slave felt indignant upon hearing his words. Then he used his position to bully others and injured my companion. In a burst of anger, I could not control my emotions and struck out."

Across from him, Pan Lang was still speaking endlessly, but Fist Ancestor had lost interest in listening. He waved his hand and smiled. "Since you were venting your anger on my behalf, I should not disappoint your good intentions. But you did kill the fire chief. If I do not deal with it, others will say there are no rules here. How could I manage the mine afterward? How about this? I will give you an opportunity. Prove your ability, and I will act as if this never happened. What do you say?" Fist Ancestor continued, "It is not difficult. You may not know this, but our mine has a beast-fighting arena that the nobles greatly enjoy.