He recognized the strength of their opponent’s martial ability. Four ninth level adepts had been guarding the Empress, with a skill that grew stronger as they channeled together. And yet, one single Adept bested them all.
Metatron mulled over the details again and again. Annoyance was etched in the lines of his tired face. He had thought of everything. Everything, except the Empress.
Michael stood a few paces behind the Lord Archangel. He his body was almost completely recovered from his battle with Lan Jue, and in that time his mind had grown sharper. He had his own suspicions about who it might be, or who they might be connected but. Now, though, it was all conjecture. Besides, the victim was most important.
