Seeing Isaac prepare to leave, Alan immediately rushed after him, grabbing the bishop's robe with a cold voice. "Are you really going to weasel your way out of this debt?"
Isaac glanced at him with clear disdain. "And who the hell are you? Matters between the Church and the Third Princess are none of your business."
Without hesitation, Alan raised his hand and clenched Isaac's jaw. His voice was low and furious. "Bad timing for you then—because I've decided to make it my business."
Before anyone could react, Alan's grip tightened. With a sickening rip, half of Isaac's lip was torn clean off!
The Third Princess froze.
Before she could process what was happening, Alan thrust his other hand into Isaac's mouth and yanked hard.
In the blink of an eye, a bloody tongue—fresh and twitching—was ripped straight from Isaac's throat.
For a moment, time itself seemed to come to a halt.
