The room was cloaked in shadows, lit only by the dim glow of a single overhead light. The luxury of the Star Constellation Hotel's presidential suite was stripped away in this one corner, replaced by an air of raw menace. The pristine white walls seemed to absorb the tension, and the faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound accompanying the ragged breathing of the man bound to the chair in the center.
Vile, the demonic path cultivator, was barely recognizable. His dark hair hung in matted strands, slick with sweat, while his face bore the fresh marks of Hutton's relentless interrogation. Blood seeped from cuts across his arms and face, dripping onto the carpeted floor, staining the elegance of the room with grim reality.
