The chief clenched his fists so tightly that his hands trembled. He stepped forward, pointing a thick, shaking finger at Din.
Pao Hong: "Bring Chain to me immediately!"
His voice was a thunderous roar that reverberated off the stone walls, making the torches tremble in their brackets.
Din gave an exaggerated bow, his mockery thinly veiled. The corners of his mouth remained curled in a provocative smirk, but he said nothing more. With light, quick steps, he left the hall, casting one last malicious glance at Pao Hong before disappearing down the corridor.
As Din exited, another figure entered. Si-U, Pao Hong's eldest son, moved with an elegance that sharply contrasted with his father's brutish presence. Tall and lean, with dark hair falling in disheveled strands over his forehead, his ocean-green eyes glimmered with calm curiosity. His relaxed posture seemed almost out of place amidst the room's tension.
Si-U stopped, taking in the disarray—the overturned table, the flickering torches—before crossing his arms casually. The contrast between father and son was striking. While Pao Hong exuded oppressive rage and power, Si-U radiated an aloof serenity, as if he were above the petty intrigues and fiery outbursts that consumed the stronghold.
The air was thick with tension, as though the anger radiating from Pao Hong had made it heavier. Si-U's expression shifted from mild amusement to slight concern as he observed his father.
Si-U: "What's wrong, Father?"
His voice carried a faint edge of caution, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his father's flushed, furious face.
Pao Hong spun toward him, jabbing a finger in his direction with the same intensity he had used with Din.
Pao Hong: "It's your sister. She's courting Van."
Si-U blinked, caught off guard by the revelation, but his reaction was quick. A wry smile tugged at his lips, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to confirm he had heard correctly.
Si-U: "Which Van?" he asked, his tone laced with deliberate provocation.
Pao Hong's eyes narrowed, his fury blazing anew.
Pao Hong: "The one from Chain's group!"
His voice rose to a near-shout, his steps heavy as he advanced, his beard trembling with the force of his ragged breaths.
Si-U chuckled, crossing his arms in a nonchalant manner. He shook his head, as though the idea was so absurd it couldn't be taken seriously.
Si-U: "Father, you must be joking. Van is the worst thief in the stronghold."
Pao Hong stormed forward another step, his voice a guttural roar.
Pao Hong: "You brat! Do you think I'm joking about something this serious?"
Si-U raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, though the mocking smile remained on his lips.
Si-U: "Father, I don't think Pan is well. She must be ill to make such a poor choice."
Though his tone grew slightly more serious, there was still a glint of mischief in his eyes, as if he were testing his father's limits.
Pao Hong stopped abruptly, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. His narrowed eyes bore into his son, his expression a mix of fury and contemplation.
Pao Hong: "Then I'll cure her of this 'illness.' "
The smile faded from Si-U's face. Straightening his posture, he fixed his father with a firm gaze.
Si-U: "Father, please don't punish Pan."
His voice carried a rare sincerity, and his green eyes searched his father's for a glimmer of compassion.
Pao Hong hesitated, his hardened expression softening slightly, as though Si-U's words had struck a chord. For a brief moment, the rage in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something more conflicted. But the moment passed quickly, and his gaze hardened once more, like a fortress rebuilding itself after a crack.
Pao Hong: "Do you think I would harm her, my son?"
Before Si-U could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. The doors opened, and Chain entered the hall. His presence was as composed and deliberate as the man himself.
Chain's blond hair was tied into a short ponytail, and his sharp violet eyes immediately locked onto Pao Hong. His dark cloak swayed slightly with his measured steps, adding a touch of theatricality to his entrance.
He bowed deeply, moving with the precision of someone accustomed to navigating volatile situations.
Chain: "Master Hong, how may I be of service?"
His voice was calm, but there was a subtle note of apprehension, as though he already had an inkling of why he had been summoned.
The room seemed to hold its breath. The weight of Chain's arrival added a new layer of tension, and all eyes turned to Pao Hong, waiting for his next words.