Flame Shield

After Lin Li entered the room, he found that there was another acquaintance sitting inside besides Macklin.

"Good afternoon, Mr Darian," Lin Li greeted with a smile. Perhaps few people could imagine, seeing the expression on his face, that this polite-looking fellow was actually the culprit who had beaten Darian's nephew into a cripple.

"Hng!" Darian snorted; his face as black as the bottom of a pan.

The atmosphere in the room was full of tension, making Macklin's head throb. He rubbed the center of his forehead painfully, and quickly interrupted, "Alright, Darian, I'll think about what you've said. You go back first…"

"Yes, Mr Macklin…" Macklin had already spoken, so Darian would have to abide even if he was unwilling. In case he had incited the anger of the guild's most powerful Archmage, it'd be too late to regret. Macklin was not as accommodating as Aldwin; he would always turn hostile all of a sudden without even prior greeting.