Cāng Jì stood in the center of the cavern and there was no dramatics. No posturing. No complaints about the humidity or the mud or the indignity of being surrounded by lowlanders.
His golden scales were streaked with soot. His wings, usually pristine, were battered from flying through collapsing temple debris. There was a gash across his chest that was still bleeding.
He had flown through hell to get here.
And he was absolutely furious.
He shifted into his human form.
The mercenaries froze. Every single one of them.
"Lower your weapons," Cāng Jì said.
No one moved.
"I said," he repeated, and his voice dropping, "lower your weapons."
Blades clattered to the stone floor. Bows were dropped. A bear mercenary near the back actually fell to his knees.
Cāng Jì walked through them slowly. He stopped in the center of the cavern and turned in a slow circle, looking at each mercenary in turn.
"You made a mistake. And I won't forgive it,"
He raised one hand.
