A slow, rumbling sound began in Yan Lie's chest. It was deep, rough, and vibrating.
It took the terrified audience a full five seconds to realize that the Mini Demon Lord wasn't growling.
He was laughing.
It started as a chuckle and erupted into a full-blown, booming roar of genuine, psychotic amusement that shook the rotting roof tiles of the nearby huts.
"Spiritual dysentery!" Yan Lie laughed, throwing his head back. He looked back down at Ji'an, his red eyes blazing with a sudden, terrifyingly intense fascination.
He ripped his halberd from the ground and took a step up the stairs, ignoring the garlic ward completely, stopping until his broad chest was inches from Ji'an's spatula.
He leaned down, his face entirely too close, his hot breath smelling of ozone and fire.
"You have spine, little cook," Yan Lie whispered, his voice a dark, thrilling promise. "I like spines. They make such a satisfying sound when they snap."
