The prisoners knelt in a line before him.
Six Iron Wolves, bound at the wrists behind their backs with rope Han had prepared. Formation-reinforced rope that suppressed their qi, made them mortal for what came next. They knelt in the dirt like penitents at prayer, except prayer wouldn't save them now.
Nothing would.
The clearing felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. The kind of stillness that preceded violence, that made the air taste metallic and sharp. Trees surrounded them like witnesses, indifferent and ancient. The ground was stained with blood from the earlier battle, earth churned from combat.
Behind Hunter, the Shadow Legion stood watching. All sixteen of them. Han had insisted everyone be present for this. Even the children. Especially the children.
"They need to see," Han had said quietly, voice carrying the weight of experience. "Need to understand what we fight. What lines exist. What happens when those lines are crossed. This is a lesson they can't learn safely."
