Page 169 of Savage Throne
He fucking ruined our entrance.
The roasted duck dumpling sat on my tongue, its golden skin slick with fragrant oil, but no flavor touched my senses.
It could’ve been ash for all I cared.
Around me, the feast unfolded as I had meticulously planned.
Plates of lacquered fish glistened like jewels under the pavilion’s indigo chandeliers.
Towers of sweet buns shimmered like sugared treasures.
And yet, all of it now felt like a mockery.
He ruined everything.
I scanned the table.
I’ll show him. I’ll fucking kill someone he cares about.
Chen had already moved Jo, Monique’s sister, to Rowe Street Mob’s table earlier—a decision that had initially rankled me. I’d been prepared to make an example with Jo once Lei and Monique returned—slice Jo’s throat quickly and let her blood spill across Lei’s throne. While I didn’t have a problem with that sister, T.T. was the only sister that mattered in the grander future of the Four Aces.
How did Chen know I had chosen her to die?
It would have been a single, swift death in full view of the sanctum to remind everyone that I was still the Grand Mountain Master, still the force that shaped this world.
But now, Jo was too far away.
The realization burned like acid in my throat.
Damn you, Chen. You’re starting to guess my moves?
Watching me the whole time, Chen held some meaningless conversation with Min and kept checking his watch.
Where is your fucking Mountain Master? What could he be doing? Is he trying to escape this battle? Please tell me I didn’t raise a coward.
I trailed my gaze over the men and women seated at my table, wondering who else I could kill to teach Lei a lesson when he arrived.
Hmmm.
My old guard sat rigidly on my side while my most loyal Blue Lanterns ate at tables near us.
Across the table, the new blood brimmed with youthful arrogance.
Hmmm. It appears my taking Monique away has everyone upset.
There, they lounged with a kind of defiance that set my teeth on edge. Their every movement and glance did not display submission. Instead, they damn near broadcasted their readiness to strike.
Careful, little ones.
Duck leaned back as he popped a roasted duck dumpling into his mouth. He ate with the deliberate calm of a man completely at ease. But his posture betrayed him—his back was straight, his body tilted forward ever so slightly, like a predator prepared to spring.
I recognized that stance because I had taught it to him myself when he was no more than a boy, barely strong enough to hold the practice staff I had given him.
It was a warrior's posture, a readiness for violence disguised as relaxation.
I could still hear my own voice drilling it into him;Never sit in a way you can’t fight your way out of. Every meal could be your last and every feast could turn into a battlefield.
I gritted my teeth.
