Chapter 561: Martial Artists Don’t ‘Steal’ Things
At the same time, in a ruin belonging to a Lord of Subspace, a golden lizard dressed in floral shorts and a green shirt abruptly stopped what it was doing and lifted its sunglasses. It had been busy grilling a barbecue skewer.
Next to it, a giant silver-furred rat with a slick, glossy coat and a peculiar tuft of fur styled into a perm, was holding a bottle of liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The rat drooled as it gazed gleefully at the nearly golden-brown, crispy, roasted lizard tail on the grill.
“Squeak, squeak, squeak,” the silver rat chirped, glancing at the golden lizard.
The lizard, still holding its barbecue tools, replied, “Someone opened the control room of the Biscuit.”
“Squeak, squeak?”
“Yes, it must have been a non-Subspace creature. It can’t be one of us. Even Lord Terror couldn’t have opened that door.”
“Squeak, squeak, squeak.”
“Hmm, yes, I need to check it out. I sense a familiar aura; something connected to me.”
“Squeak.”
“Fine, but we’ll finish eating first. Let’s eat, then go,” the golden lizard said decisively.
The conversation between the golden lizard and the silver rat was surprisingly smooth, almost as if the rat’s squeaks were perfectly coherent speech.