It was a shame. Despite guarding such a rich land, many people around here couldn't even get enough to eat. One could only imagine how lazy and inferior this nation must be.
Ian stopped in his tracks.
Ahead, three figures descended from the sky, forming a triangle to surround him.
Bascara stood directly in front, his dark crimson monk's robe whipping in the wind.
Aditya was to his left, his bald head gleaming under the sun, muscles bulging like an iron tower.
Shomia was to his right, his gaze cold and sinister.
"Mr. Yin, please go no further."
Bascara spoke, his voice calm, but his eyes were extremely grave.
Ian didn't reply, merely watching them with indifference. It was the way one would look at dead men.
"His Majesty has given the order. Please return to the camp."
Bascara continued, slowly raising his hands as a golden light began to gather in his palms.
"If you insist on moving forward… then the three of us will be forced to act."
