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... Gao. As dusk approached, the silhouette of the Great Khan, faded into the distance under the escort of his cavalry, disappearing in the golden twilight.

The surrounding tribesmen gradually dispersed. Warriors with veiled faces had already been encircled by young girls, who sang like nightingales and bestowed countless flower wreaths upon them. A few more bashful beauties glanced nervously towards the Yuezhi tribe, wanting to present flowers but lacking the courage to do so.

After ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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