"That's enough...I remember the rest now," Zhen Hou stated as he lifted palm as if signaling to stop.
[Oh? Very well.]
With a snap of her chitinous fingers, the scene of the assassins of the Dreaming Flower Clan preparing for an ambush suddenly stopped like a paused movie screen.
The imposing face of the person in red was frozen solid in an expression that suggested command and power, a sharp juxtaposition to the look of sheer terror on the smaller Zhen Hou's face.
The old Zhen Hou let out a deep sigh as he stared at the frozen scene, unconsciously touching the scar on his forehead.
He didn't need a play-by-play to remember what happened next, despite having apparently repressed this memory all this time.
Zhen Hou didn't remember all of the names and details, he was four at the time, but he did remember the important broad strokes.
