Envoy Xue Sha’s brain locked up like a rusted gear.
The eleven-year-old boy’s clear, polite question echoed across the volcanic crater: “Dad! He called you a worthless stepping-stone, alongside he took his shield off! Can I hit him now?”
Dad?! Xue Sha’s single working eye twitched violently. *Why is he asking his dad for permission?!
And why is he looking over my shoulder toward the northern ridge?!*
Slowly, mechanically, like a wooden puppet with creaking joints, Envoy Xue Sha turned his head over his shoulder.
First, his gaze dropped three feet to the wicker basket sitting beneath the blade of the [Illusion Execution Guillotine].
The black cloth hood had blown away in the mountain wind.
There was no severed human head in the basket.
