Lord Mourinho rode the Fire Phoenix and slowly descended from the sky, his handsome face covered in bone-chilling frost, fiercely cold.
"You are too bold now!" The head priest's gaze swept over the plaza, and each Beamon caught in his gaze involuntarily shivered.
"Rallying! Brawling! Are you still soldiers? Are you still priests?" Lord Mourinho angrily pointed at the militia of the Feilengcui and the soldiers of the War God's Whip, scolding, "You are simply a bunch of ruffians and hooligans!"
A silence ensued.
"And you!" The head priest did not spare the priests in the plaza either, "Over six hundred priests, nearly eight thousand followers! And you just watched these two groups brawl in the War God Plaza! What good are you?"
An awkward silence followed.
"Answer me!" Lord Mourinho roared.
Yet an even more awkward silence ensued.
