"Good!" A clear laugh broke the silence.
Tie Ming raised his hand and hooked his fingers over the edge of his faceplate.
With a soft click, he removed the dark iron faceplate that kept his features hidden all day.
Beneath it was an extremely young face, one that could even be called handsome.
Swordlike brows swept toward his temples, above a high, straight nose and vermilion lips.
His skin had the cool pallor of someone long deprived of sunlight.
His eyes were as deep as stars on a winter night, and now held undisguised appreciation as he looked down at Qing Chen, who knelt on one knee.
This face seemed to belong to an entirely different person from the cold, murderous Army Supervisor of before, bearing the particular refinement and composure of an aristocratic clan's scion.
"Hahaha! Good! Very good! Excellent!"
Tie Ming laughed aloud, his clear voice carrying heartfelt delight.
"You recognize the tides, know when to advance and retreat, and understand what to keep and what to relinquish! Rarer still, you have the strength to match! Today, I, Tie Ming, have gained a fierce general!"
He stepped forward and gently patted Qing Chen's shoulder, a casual gesture that nonetheless conveyed acceptance:
"Rise! From now on, call me Army Supervisor or benefactor, or... Young Master, if you wish. As you please.
"I, Tie Ming, like clever men like you!"
The sense of bestowing a favor was laid bare in his words.
Qing Chen rose accordingly, his head still slightly bowed and his posture respectful, and answered:
"Yes, Young Master!"
Young Master... so that was his place.
The so-called alliance was nothing more than a performance both understood without saying.
What Tie Ming wanted was a capable subordinate who was clever enough, ruthless enough, and sensible enough to know his