"My Lord," the man speaks with a respectful tone and bows. The black-robed servant steps away from the path that his lord walks.
Haunting footsteps stroll the stretching hall. The atmosphere is dark, candles light the vacant throne room. There, a lonely throne is made of jagged stone and glorious pelts of mountain tigers. It's a throne fit only for a tyrant, a ghost, a demon.
Hongyue Wanai dresses in his colors; vermilion, crimson, scarlet, rouge. His expression is ice, unlike the warmth of the colors that he dons. The demon king finds his place, the cold stony throne welcomes him and recognizes his power, his insanity.
"Su Nan," his low voice drawls, equally as cold and unfeeling as his piercing gaze, "I suppose that everything is prepared?"
"Correct, my Lord," Su Nan hums without raising his head. "I have already told the Wolf Claw and Cloud Dancer to retreat from the Valley. They will not interfere with your affairs."
