The steward swallowed hard. His voice trembled as he tried to steady himself.
"I remember the honored lord's words. That no one of the clan's bloodline is to be left alive."
He stepped aside and gestured toward the entrance. Two servants, tense and shaking, carried in a stretcher. Upon it lay Huamu Ye, unconscious, bound tightly with ropes around his wrists and ankles.
A faint herbal scent lingered in the air.
'Sedatives.' Enough to knock out even a cultivator.
Han Yu raised his eyebrow.
The steward hurried to justify himself, speaking fast as if trying to outrun death.
"I thought… honored lord might wish to finish the task without inconvenience. So I brought the young master... no, this 'creature' myself."
Han Yu stared at the steward for several seconds, letting the silence weigh heavily on him. The man's hands shook harder with each passing heartbeat. Then suddenly, Han Yu clapped once, smiling faintly.
The smile only made the steward more terrified.
