Zhao Yunlan nodded. “If I were in his shoes and the woman I loved died at those people’s hands, under the rules I’d laid down, I would hate them even more than I’d hated the old chief.” “More than that…” The Soul-Executing Emissary looked up through his gray mist at the towering, unmoving Awl. “Even rending them limb from limb could never appease my hatred.”
