The corner of Narrator's mouth twitched, and he bowed in assent.
Their king's taste in names was as abstract as ever. Who knew where he had read so many storybooks that his aesthetic sense had deteriorated until it lacked any artistic beauty.
There was just... too much to complain about.
"Yes, as my king commands."
Ye Buyu gripped the soul vessel in her hand. "What was that just now?"
Narrator cried out, "Be amazed! Be awed! Give it your applause! This is a play personally adapted by the King of Withering and Flourishing, worthy of being passed down through the ages!"
Everyone from the Present World wore a look of exasperation.
No, no, no. It would be a miracle if it survived at all. That naming genius was on par with serving spicy snack sticks at a state banquet.
Everything about it felt wrong.
"Enough. Stop this farce." Bajiao looked at Ye Buyu, a beguiling smile on her lips, cold to the bone.
"Hand over what you're holding. Give it to the [Void Order], and perhaps they can still be spared suffering."
The [Tsunami Lord] looked at the remaining members of Cloud Haze, milling about helplessly like headless flies, and suddenly felt that their presence rather sullied the place.
But they were not entirely without value.
She flexed her fingers, and streams of water turned into chains that instantly pierced the remaining people.
"These souls are filthy, but they'll barely suffice as sacrifices. Besides, the Thin Mist Priest belonged to [Abyssal Erosion] in the first place. Surely taking back what's ours isn't going too far."
Narrator smiled. "As you please. They're no longer in the script."
The [Rift Lord] twisted his arms, then suddenly charged at the Present World's group, heading straight for Ye Buyu.
"Then I'll take what she's