Mai Zi could only lower her head and stare at the floor, utterly at a loss for how to express her melancholy. Her boss was acting up again.
Lucifer struggled to his feet and looked at Big Chef, who was crouching before the wineglass and sipping through a straw. His heart churned violently, wordless terror filling his chest.
Lucifer was a highest-ranking angel, not an idiot. Otherwise, he would never have become Hell's boss. After several incidents, he had finally found the crux of the problem: as long as anyone showed Qin Fen disrespect, intentionally or otherwise, or did anything even slightly improper, that unreasonable suppression from the depths of the soul would descend upon them.
He was the mighty King of Hell, a seraph, yet he did not even have the strength to resist. If told to kneel, he knelt, without the slightest hesitation! Forget that he embodied the sin of pride—Lucifer believed that even Michael and Uriel, the current leaders of the angelic legions, would have no chance to resist this guy.
What the hell was he? Lucifer did not dare dwell on it. He feared that one wrong thought would make him kneel again for no damn reason. Qin Fen had not even expressed an opinion, yet his body reacted like a conditioned reflex, completely beyond his control—and Qin Fen did not know it at all.
"Looks like it really likes this wine," Mai Zi said with a bitter smile.
Lucifer no longer spoke so boldly. He was a devil, after all. Though he belonged to the chaotic lawful faction, he was far smarter than the chaotic, savage demons. Those guys were only fit to serve as cannon fodder beneath him. That was the difference between having brains and not having them.
When facing Qin Fen, he