Liaison Officer Cui’s shrill voice still echoed in the chilly air of the subterranean hospital ward.
His gilded riding crop was held two inches from Commander Long Zhan’s scarred nose. His lips were curled in a venomous, triumphant sneer.
“Sign the treaty, Long Zhan,” Cui hissed softly, his breath smelling of expensive wine. “Bow to the 36 Hidden Sects, or watch your state dogs freeze.”
Long Zhan’s remaining fist shook with righteous fury. His knuckle bones groaned under the strain, his saber half-drawn from its iron scabbard.
Before Long Zhan could draw his blade, a shadow moved.
Lin Mo stepped forward with a stride so smooth and swift it seemed like walking on water.
In a fraction of a second, Lin Mo bypassed Commander Long Zhan and closed the five-pace distance.
Lin Mo’s right hand shot out like an iron clamp, seizing Liaison Officer Cui directly by his thick fox-fur collar.
