“Cold shoulder?” A voice responded from the black fog in front of him, “Babulu… You are destined to be the one taking over the honourable title of Black Mamba. You should start developing your own views on international affairs.”

“This isn’t the cold shoulder, Deputy Chief Babulu. We’ve put him up in the best villa, and given him all the food he can ask for. His needs have all been met. How can you call this the cold shoulder?”

“All-Knowing One…” Babulu straightened up his back, “The Emissaries of Hell have finally emerged from seclusion after a hundred long years. This is an event of great significance. The fact that he’d entered these lands through the contact we’d left in the Cathayan mortal realm means that he’s obviously here to speak with you. And you were clearly aware when he first stepped foot into our lands, but you chose not to send anyone to meet with him. You… should know how powerful Hell is. I… simply hope that your decision here wouldn’t spell trouble for the Black Mamba Tribe, especially not a threat at the level of one of the P4 underworlds.”

“Have you forgotten about that time in the Middle East, when a coalition of powerful underworlds, including the Argosian Underworld that had laid waste to our lands, joined hands against Hell? Don’t you remember the result back then? Don’t you remember the 100-meter tall pyres of the dead that Hell left in the...