The room was oppressively silent, and no one spoke.
The white cloth on the table stained with red wine took on a blood-like hue.
Ming'an leaned back in his chair, his Defensive Barrier ready and waiting to be unleashed.
He stared at the somber-faced Snow, the old man's kindly smile had vanished.
"Yasa Acto," Snow said with a grave face, no longer using any titles of respect. The moment Ming'an made him lick the tablecloth, it was as if they had overturned the table between them.
Even if he bowed his head now, licked the tablecloth clean, he would not get an announcement from Ming'an to "join hands with Ta Wei"—there was no longer any possibility of negotiation between them.
"You don't understand, no matter how painful, how humiliating, we have to live, human civilization has to 'survive'..." Snow said.
He raised his hand, and the androids behind him stepped forward with their guns at the ready, preparing to take action by force.
