The saber swept in again, bringing an intense, hot gust. The Young Master was knocked onto his butt, crying out in alarm: "Mercy!"
"I am the Young Master of Sword Mountain, as long as you don't kill me, you can ask for any amount of money and my father can provide it!"
The saber halted right in front of his nose. The Young Master thought he was already dead, and it was only after a moment that he realized he was still alive, followed by the unpleasant warmth spreading through his groin and the stench that came after.
There, Owen Bertram was stroking his chin and thinking: it's a shame really, the guy's father sounds both powerful and influential. Sure as hell won't just quietly pay the ransom.
I'm just not strong enough yet. Otherwise, I could have demanded more than just money, taken all their magical treasures and spiritual pills, and handed them all to my younger brother!
