"T-that’s him! That’s the Overlord!," Zhen Li shouted in fear as he stared at the masked man on the other side of the mirror.
While the conversation he and him shared was rather short, it did leave a profound impression on his psyche, one that he wished wasn’t there in the first place.
Zhen Wang was stunned silent at the sudden reveal, but not so greatly that he lost his manners.
If there’s one thing he learned over the years, is that etiquette and manners helped a lot in placating the tempers of those more powerful than himself.
"I can hear you loud and clear, sir. And may I say I am truly sorry for-."
"Shove it, I have no time for pointless pleasantries, placating words and sycophantic behavior," the masked man interrupted.
Then again, the other guy had to be somewhat receptive to such behavior in the first place.
"Besides, I should be the one apologizing, well, at least for this little incident. Some of my...disciples, got a bit overzealous and proceeded to take out all of your men prematurely, sorry for that."
Zhen Wang’s eye twitched at the masked man’s outrageous statement.
Zhen Wang had brought with him about a dozen or so warriors that were thoroughly trained in the arts of scouting, spying and assassination. Granted they weren’t elite warriors so they couldn’t handle a straight up brawl, but they could still hold their own against other Aether Acolytes and low tiered Masters, at least for a while until their compatriots came to help them out.
Then again, when the ones stalking the stalkers happen to be walking, talking glitches in reality, it’s not exactly a fair contest.
"Anyways," the masked man continued, assuming Zhen Wang’s stunned silence was him accepting the apology, "after this little incident, I have decided not to bury your men in a mass shallow grave with a warning signed in their blood outside of your stables caravan. Consider it a kindness, you’re welcome."
Adding to the outrageousness of the statement, the masked man proceeded to bow while taking off an imaginary top hat.
’What the fuck is wrong with this guy?,’ Zhen Wang asked himself, now understanding why his own disciple was traumatized by talking with this masked Overlord. He was fucking nuts.
"Well...I guess I have to thank-"
"Instead, I’m going to do questionable things to their minds that have them forget whatever the fuck they found out about the Zhen Clan here and ditch them in the middle of the desert, where they’ll be surrounded by horrifying aether beasts that love the taste of blood! And before you say it, I know, I’m such a humanitarian," the masked man said while clapping his hands together, the sound of a smug smile on his voice.
Zhen Wang didn’t even try to say anything, placative or otherwise, he had a feeling that anything he said would be twisted against him like a demented Strangle Vine.
"What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Frog in the throat? Blade in the gut? Eh, whatever," the masked man shrugged," I’m assuming at this point though, you’re wondering why I’m telling you all of this. Right? Feel free to speak up, I’m getting rather bored of this one-sided conversation."
Zhen Wang was tempted to scream that this conversation was one-sided because the masked man was making this a one-sided conversation, but held his tongue in that regard.
There was no good way to negotiate with crazy.
"Yes. That is...indeed, the question on my mind...," Zhen Wang answered carefully.
There were actually six other ones in his mind, one of which was "how do I murder this guy", but the guy in question didn’t need to know that.
"Magnificent!," the masked man laughed, "well my dear elderly friend, the answer to that question is simple: I find dishonor funnier than death. I’m sure your disciple informed you about the Zhen Clan’s patriarch’s plan to return to Roaring Tide, yes?"
Zhen Wang had a bad feeling about this.
"Good, in that case," the masked man paused for dramatic effect, "I want you to escort him and his family back to the Pearl Scale Empire, safely."
________________________________________________
[So...why did we just ditch them in the middle of the wastelands and not like...in a tavern?]
[This was the cheaper option.]
[Ah...okay, but why did we have to steal their clothes too?]
[Because the costumes wouldn’t fit otherwise.]
[But why did we need the costumes?]
[Because it wouldn’t sell the props and tattoos otherwise.]
________________________________________________
The morning after the night prior...
In an oasis about ten miles east of Stone Claw City, the aftermath of what appeared to have been the most absurd party in existence was seen scattered about.
There were empty kegs of booze scattered about, torn and tattered clothing, the skeletal remains of a large pig-like beast that was thoroughly eaten and enough hung over unconcious people to fill a nine to five express line to an office job.
The funny thing about this aftermath though, was that the party actually didn’t happen, but everyone who were currently at this oasis was pretty certain that it did.
"Uuuugghhh, my fucking head...what the fuck happened last night?," Yin Mei groaned as she stirred to consciousness and sat herself up.
’Did I drink too much or something?,’ she groggily thought, ’where are my pill-eh?’
Yin Mei groped around her immediate area to see if she could find a pillow or a blanket, something to confirm she actually slept in a bed last night. Instead, she simultaneously groped the chest of a well-endowed woman and the groin of a surprisingly well-endowed man.
The feeling of both shot her wide awake and then staring at the faces of both made her realize who she was groping, causing her to scream.
"Ackk...who the fuck is screaming this early in the morn...why are you grabbing my dick?"
"Yeesh...,"the woman next to Yin Mei began to stir, "did someone murder a cat or some...you have surprisingly soft hands."
"Ah, sorry Fang Fang!"
"Oh don’t apologize, that actually felt kind of nice," the well-endowed woman smiled, "on that note...did we?"
"I don’t know and I can’t remember," Yin Mei quickly answered.
Around the oasis, similar cries of confusion rang out, although very different connotations to them.
"What the fuck, when did I end up inside an ale barrel? How did I even fit?"
"Did...did we...sleep together?"
"I don’t know...but is now a bad time to mention I’ve had a crush on you for years?"
"Dude...I’m engaged to your sister."
"By the scales, why does my lower back feel like it’s on fire?"
"Lemme see...when did you get a tattoo?"
"I what?! What tattoo?"
"It looks like words and a butterfly...and a spade? Looks like a spade."
This general feeling of muddled confusion permeated the oasis for a couple of a minutes as the people present attempted to remember what the fuck happened to them in the last twenty-four hours.
As they did however, their faces began to pale...and then glow bright red with embarrassment.
The kind of embarrassment that can only be compared, to making out with the principal’s wife in front of them at a high school reunion.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"