The psychic projection maintained by the three spiritual energy masters was terrifyingly high-resolution, allowing the marshal to see clearly the look in Murphy's eyes, those points of crimson within the blackness.
It was like a pulsing flame.
This vampire didn't seem to be joking, and his decisiveness in making threats were more akin to a down-to-earth dwarf.
"Heh, pretending to have the backing of a tiger does seem to be something you've mastered, but a fox is always a fox, don't bring out such cheap tricks!"
The half-dwarf marshal didn't back down, but he smoothly changed the topic, saying,
"My friend, old Finoc, died in your territory, which greatly saddens me."
"Who killed him then?"
Murphy counter-questioned:
