"Chief! Something terrible has happened!"
A shrill, urgent report tore through the stifling atmosphere in the Bandit Stronghold's main hall.
A bandit scrambled inside, his clothes disheveled and his breath ragged. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees with a thud on the cold, hard bluestone floor. He slammed his forehead down repeatedly, bowing as frantically as someone pounding garlic.
"The Second Chief ordered me to hurry back for reinforcements! That man and woman slipped into the dense woods and brush to the west!"
"The forest stretches on without end, with thick branches, dense leaves, and complicated terrain. With the men we have now, there's no way we can surround them completely and seal off every escape route!
"The Second Chief said those two are carrying extremely valuable treasures. We absolutely cannot let them escape! Please send more men at once, Chief!"
He lay prostrate, his forehead pressed firmly against the floor, not daring even to breathe too loudly. He feared that the master above him, outwardly refined but inwardly vicious, might take his life at the slightest displeasure.
At the head of the hall stood a massive, imposing chair draped in tiger hide, its carved dragons and phoenixes sporting savage contours.
The young man seated upon it lightly supported his chin with his right hand, his fingers slightly curled and his gaze lowered. He seemed to be deep in thought, yet also seemed to be looking coldly down upon the antlike beings at his feet.
On closer inspection, his appearance was truly extraordinary.
His complexion was fairer than jade, his skin smooth and flawless, untouched by hardship. His brows resembled distant mountains, his eyes cold pools. His nose was straight, his lips delicately defined. He possessed the cultivated elegance of a scholar, his bearing gentle, modest,