In a glittering grand hall, there were two people, one standing, one sitting.
The person standing was a thin and tall figure, clearly a subordinate; the person sitting resembled a Maitreya Buddha, obviously the boss.
"So, the Immortal Assassins have all been wiped out?" The boss's voice was eerily gentle, and his tone was very calm, like a sea without wind, but who knows how many undercurrents were surging beneath.
"Yes," the thin and tall one bowed his head.
"And this is the so-called top domestic assassin group you spoke of? Not only did they fail to complete the mission, but they also alarmed the enemy, I'm starting to doubt your abilities," the boss's tone remained very serene.
"I heard that a mysterious mastermind intervened," the subordinate's forehead was suddenly covered in sweat beads.
"I do not like to hear excuses, especially those for failure."
