Inside the Fifth Prince's estate.
Shattered porcelain lay scattered across the cold marble floor.
A line of people knelt amidst the broken shards. The fabric over their knees had already been soaked in blood, and their backs were covered in fresh whip marks.
No one dared to move. No one dared to plead.
The Fifth Prince, his complexion pale and ghostly, gripped a whip stained with blood. His voice was cold and venomous.
"So, you pathetic fools couldn't even capture a low-level Furniture Maker?"
His wrist flicked, and another sharp crack of the whip cut across a man's back, drawing a fresh line of blood.
"My lord," said a sultry voice from beside him. A seductive figure leaned close, speaking in a soft, alluring tone. "That man appears to be just a silver-ranked swordsman, but he's clearly hiding his strength. He may even be using some sort of advanced concealment technique."
"They underestimated him… that's why he was able to escape."
