Boran

A tremor of unease ran through Atticus, not from the approaching figures, but from the memory they stirred. The boisterous atmosphere of the tavern seemed to dim for a fleeting moment as a group of burly students lumbered towards their table.

Atticus, however, remained composed. He'd faced far worse than a few boisterous students in the coliseum. He glanced at Xu Hua, a silent question in his eyes. She shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.

At their head stood a man Atticus didn't recognize. He was broad-shouldered with a thick beard and a scarred face, radiating an air of gruff confidence. His gaze fell on Atticus, a flicker of recognition followed by amusement crossing his features.

"Well, well," the man boomed, his voice surprisingly jovial for his imposing stature. "Looks like the Bloodhound's finally decided to show his face!"

Atticus met his gaze evenly. "Can I help you?" he asked politely, more curious than threatened.

The man chuckled, a hearty sound that fi