Inside the glowing underground rotunda of the Blood-Colosseum kennels, twelve-year-old Gu Nian paused with his hand on the main exit lever and blinked at his brass earpiece.
“Don’t empty the cages tonight?” Gu Nian repeated softly. “Second Brother, if we leave the ten thousand cubs and their mothers inside the Colosseum until morning, won’t Mo Fan try to force them into his gladiator arena at dawn?”
“That’s the exact point, Nian’er,” thirteen-year-old Ye Xiao explained over the encrypted family channel from the courtyard’s helm, where Gu Changsheng, Grandpa Fu, and Grandpa Mu were leaning over the holographic map of World #6. “Right now, three billion ordinary citizens across Worlds #6 and #7 still believe Mo Fan’s propaganda billboards.
They think wild spirit beasts are bloodthirsty monsters, and they think Mo Fan’s ‘Iron Blood-Whip’ is the only thing keeping their cities safe. If we sneak the ten thousand beasts out in the middle of the night. Mo Fan will simply tell the public that ‘feral beasts broke out of the kennels with the help of the treasonous Mu Clan,’.
Moreover, He’ll just go capture ten thousand more cubs next week!”
On the courtyard porch, Gu Changsheng nodded with a proud fatherly smile, sipping his warm tea. “Xiao’er hit the nail right on the head. To pull a weed up by the roots, you can’t just snip the leaves in the dark.
