Shao Cheng's face was always as white as jade, but now it seemed almost translucent–whether from rage or fear, it was impossible to tell. His pupils had shrunk to the size of pinpoints, and his limbs were frozen as he stared down at this weak magician in front of him, expression flickering between contempt and terror.
He couldn't seem to say a word. It was like just the mention of that name had frozen him to stone.
"Abrial!" Niklas hollered suddenly, sitting up and wincing as he leaned on his elbow, which was bloodied and bent at an angle an elbow should not be bent at. "Abrial, get the fuck away from him! You're not fit to fight! He's not going to talk to you, okay? Get out of the way!"
