Liu Zhipeng walked straight over.
Every gaze in the room instantly turned toward him.
The Lord of Altansar, a Phoenix Lord named Maugan Ra, watched the approaching golden colossus and instinctively tightened his grip on his great scythe. He was used to being shunned and distrusted. He thought this would be another trial.
But Liu Zhipeng did not draw his sword.
He stopped in front of Maugan Ra, suddenly reached out with his massive, golden-flame-wreathed hand, and slapped him hard on the shoulder, nearly driving the Phoenix Lord into the ground.
"Surviving that hellhole without going mad? You lot are real men."
Golden primordial fire flowed from Liu Zhipeng's palm into Maugan Ra's armor.
It neither burned nor purified. Instead, it offered a warm, hearth-like comfort. To his astonishment, Maugan Ra discovered that the cold and whispers that had haunted the depths of his soul for ten thousand years fell silent before these flames.
"Ignore those sissies who shut themselves away in greenhouses." Liu Zhipeng straightened and spoke loudly, clearly addressing every Craftworld present. "As far as I'm concerned, whoever kills the most daemons is the boss. Brothers of Altansar, sit beside me later."
The room erupted.
The representative of Alaitoc frowned. The barbarians of Saim-Hann stopped sneering.
Meanwhile, a keen glint flashed through the deep, aged eyes of Eldrad, the Big Mek of Ulthwé.
"An interesting variable..." Eldrad murmured. "Golden flames... the color of the Master of Mankind, yet burning within Khaine's shell. Truly... outrageous."
Despite calling it outrageous, the old Prophet's lips curved upward in an almost imperceptible smile.
The representatives of the various Craftworlds took their seats around the enormous crystal table.
Because Liu Zhipeng was so large, Imotekh had to hastily dismantle a wall and arrange a special open-air seat for him. He loomed there like