The Red King walked out, panting, and casually threw the Iron Coffin onto the ground: "It's really heavy, I'm exhausted."
The attendants immediately came forward to help him affix talismans and seals onto the coffin.
"Be careful."
He plopped down onto a chair and said with a cheerful smile, "This is my dearest father inside! Hmm, prepare the ritual for me tonight. I want to reclaim my beloved Holy Corpse."
The attendants respectfully bowed their heads and quietly withdrew.
This was inside a high-end restaurant within the Tokyo Skytree, but today it was unusually booked for a private event. The only guest sat beside the bar drinking, his shirt still stained with blood.
"Did only the two of you manage to come back?"
Netherworld sipped his drink, slightly intoxicated, "Looks like the plan failed, you should've brought back the Qilin."
Skylark gave him a cold glance, her eyes sharp as a knife.
Netherworld wisely kept his mouth shut.
