Argus gaped at the sharp bolt; he realized he couldn't even cry if he wanted. He couldn't imagine how a dignified level-16 Archmage like him could end up so miserable. If he could, he would rather not have come to the Fire Plume Ridge by himself, nor send someone to keep watch on the Silver Hand camp.
Unfortunately, it was too late to say anything…
Argus was a piece of meat on their chopping board at present; the only thing he could do was to look pitifully at the fellow resurrected from death, hoping that the latter could be gentler with his actions later.
Lin Li held the vampire fang in his hand, and looked at Argus with ill-intentioned eyes while offering a few hypocritical words of comfort. "Relax, it won't hurt much…"
"…" Such a look—like that of a wolf staring at a sheep—made Argus' hair stand on ends.
