Yang Yansi's reaction was faster than that of the guards outside the pavilion, and the person who suddenly appeared was certainly strange: there had been no sign beforehand, as if he'd materialized out of thin air.
"General Yang, I hear things haven't been easy for you lately."
The newcomer was not stopped by the guards; instead, they bowed slightly towards him in greeting, then retreated to stand at a distance. Matters within the pavilion were handled directly by Yang Yansi, so their presence was unnecessary for now.
"Heh, the Prince must find it amusing. But all within expectation; it's already been dealt with."
The man whom Yang Yansi addressed as Prince had hair streaked with white, a scar across his brow that looked like a burn. His age was hard to judge—could claim seventy or eighty, could just as well be forty or fifty. Most unnerving were his eyes: one all black with no white, one all white with no iris—a disturbing sight.
