"You're the same as you were, Cheon WuHui." The Xiajin Yao's Clan Head glared up at him from the ground, gaze hateful as he knelt on the blazing ruins of his palace. "Filthy and vile."
"Who granted you the permission to call Us by Our name, Yao?" Cheon WuHui asked, his face placidly stern. Resting his sword against the man's neck, he gazed down lazily. "And who told you to set Our cult on fire?"
The man smirked, hatred blazing in his eyes. "Why, has the loss of your little runt driven you to madness?"
Cheon WuHui's eyes narrowed, the veins in his hand on the sword bulging. "Who?"
"Your little runt of a—"
With a swift slash, the Heavenly Demon cut across his throat with deliberate restraint. As the blood spurted forward, he turned slightly to stop it from touching him.
As the Xiajin Head's face drained of colour, a ghastly pallor took over him. He let out a dying noise.
