No mercenary group would destroy their emblem so recklessly. Emblems were sacred to mercenaries, containing crucial information like their rank, reputation, and authority within the guild. Destroying one signified the dissolution of the group, forcing them to start from scratch. For James to crush it so casually, it could only mean one thing—they were never the Bloodsworn Mercenary Group to begin with!
"Of course, we're not the Bloodsworn Mercenary Group," James sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he strolled forward, each step deliberate, taunting.
Zoey's eyes burned with fury as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "So you've been hiding behind that false identity all along, just to ambush us! I should've seen through this act sooner! You're from the Evil Fiend Temple, aren't you?"
James chuckled darkly, the corners of his mouth curling into a predatory grin. "Oh? You figured it out? Not bad at all. You're sharper than you look."
