“My Lord.” Babulu knelt respectfully before the bone serpent in the middle of the grand hall of the Black Mamba Underworld, “Two Emissaries of Hell have departed from the Black Mamba Underworld just ten minutes ago.”

The bone serpent drifted up into the sky, and golden netherflames lit up in the orifices where its eyes were, “Oh? Where were they headed?”

“Back to Cathay.”

Silence.

Moments later, Black Mamba responded, “Wasn’t I right?”

“Do you still think he represents one of the Eight Great Clans?”

Babulu shook his head, “Nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of the great Black Mamba Mythic Spirit.”

“This time, I’m certain that he’s back for evidential proof of the Forbidden Arts as earlier alleged. You’re right. He would never do something like that if he’s from one of the Eight Great Clans. After all, the Eight Great Clans’ dealings with us would only extend to matters of commerce and profit, and it matters not to them whether we believe his claims about the Russian Underworld’s foray into Forbidden Arts or not. There’s simply no impetus for them to head back into Hell to obtain any proof of such allegations. Instead, the only one who has a vested interest in doing so is someone from within Hell’s governmental system - especially one entrusted with a tall responsibility.”

“But…” Babulu paused, “Why, then, did he not bring such proof beforehand?”

Black Mamba responded placidly, “Because this wasn’t a big deal for Hell to begin with.”

“Hell is one of the P4 underworlds,...