Tianlong set down his teacup. He looked at the young man with the expression one might give an insect that had landed on one's food.
"Leave," he said.
One word. Two syllables. Carried on a thread of divine qi that pressed against Xu Renjie's chest like a physical hand.
The young man fled. His silk robes flapped as he stumbled down the stairs, his face white, his hands shaking. The two guards followed, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling.
Tianlong resumed drinking his tea.
Xu Renjie ran home.
The Xu mansion was the largest residence in Qinghe — a sprawling compound of painted wood and tiled roofs, surrounded by a wall of grey stone. He burst through the front gate, his silk robes torn, his hair disheveled, his face a mask of humiliated fury.
"Mother! MOTHER!"
