Dr. Tan glanced back and smiled before he strode forward and held both swords in the firewall on board the fire chariot.

He whistled as if waiting for an egg to boil, and then withdrew the molten hot blades and rushed forward.

Tan swung the swords so hard that when the blades met, they took the old man’s head from his neck, cauterising the wound instantaneously.

The head thudded down on the deck and Tan roared, taking a run up before he booted it into the firewall where it frizzled to a crisp.

“You should not have crossed me…” he whispered, dropping to one knee, head bowed, as if conflicted by his actions.