The evening breeze silently blew, carrying away the lingering warmth from over two hundred corpses, and with it, the warmth from the Demon King's smile.
Luo Yan stood atop, his gaze sweeping over the corpses scattered on the ground, settling on the seemingly benevolent but in fact crazed old face.
"How should I address you?"
His lips curled into a slight arc, his voice calm and devoid of any discernable emotions.
"Are you the Tomb Guardian of the Silent Mountain Tomb, the shadow behind King Ryan, or shall I say, the 'Hand of the Late King'—Master Marinus?"
The old man whose identity was exposed showed no signs of stiffness in his smile, elegantly applauding as if to commend the accuracy of the intelligence.
"As expected of Your Majesty the Demon King, a notable figure from Hell; it seems your intelligence network is even deeper than I imagined... I certainly did not misjudge you."
The playful expression on Luo Yan's lips did not fade.
Not misjudging is still acceptable.
