"You old charlatan!"
Thorin the Dwarf stood on his chair, pointed straight at Kael's nose, and cursed him out.
"You make it sound like you could hold the line!"
"Who was it whose supposedly impregnable Holy Light Barrier was smashed apart by a single charge from a three-headed hellhound in the battle of the Weeping Plains?"
"That bullshit Divine Holy Knight Order of yours ran faster than anyone!"
"And you long-ears!" Thorin turned to Elder Muyu.
"Don't think I don't know! Wasn't the barrier around your Mist Forest infiltrated by a Demon Clan Lich too?"
"If Fendona's father hadn't risked his life to hold Lothia City, you'd have lost every last scrap of face!"
"You!" Kael trembled with fury.
Elder Muyu's face also alternated between green and white as he waved his hands repeatedly.
"Elder Thorin, please calm down..."
"Calm down, my ass!" Thorin spat as he spoke.
"We Dwarves couldn't beat them, but we admit it!"
"The Half-Orcs were driven into a corner too! They did it so their race could survive!"
"But you occupy the best land and boast the loudest, and what came of it?"
"Didn't the Demon Clan still eat away at your territory, piece by piece?"
"Now someone's willing to help us take our land back, and you're here quibbling like women!"
In the conference room, the representatives of the Four Races argued in a furious tangle, dragging up their races' old dirty laundry and battlefield embarrassments.
Lin Mo and Zhao Gang exchanged a glance, then picked up their thoroughly cold tea and enjoyed the spectacle.
The farce continued for a full ten minutes. Only when everyone had cursed themselves dry-mouthed did it gradually subside.
Breathing heavily, Thorin plopped back into his chair.
He turned away, ignoring the livid Kael and Muyu, and looked