His body still ached from the fight. His mind still burned with plans. But for now, just for a moment, he let himself rest. He stared at the wooden ceiling.
"First step taken…" he murmured.
"…many more to go."
———
Next Morning.
Low flames of the lanterns left the room in muted amber, shadows twisted across the walls of the old governor's war room.
It had no space for sunlight.
Dust still clung to its corners, and the air smelled faintly of rusted iron and old ink. But now, the table that sat unused was occupied.
Lan sat at the head, his presence carrying authority that seemed so natural. Across from him sat Venom—his bruises fading but his posture still deferent—as well as four men he'd handpicked from among the Mad Vipers.
Each of them bore the soul brand seared into their necks, faintly glowing red like cursed flesh.
They were the beginnings of an army.
Venom leaned back in his chair, gesturing to each of the four in turn.
