Qi Rong lounged in his stone throne, feet perched upon the crude statue of his cousin.

He was bored out of his mind. Not even the taste of his beloved flesh stew could bring him out of the trenches of this boredom. It was bad enough that his lair was in a cave, completely cut off from the outside world. Hardly anyone interesting stumbled in, besides a good meal or two.

Qi Rong’s lackies knew better than to pester him during a slump, so they vanished deeper into the catacombs to prepare him more food, which would hopefully placate him. After a, a bored Qi Rong is a bratty Qi Rong.

Just as he was about to call out for a subordinate, a stranger came stumbling into the throne room.