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... dily.

   Compared to more than half a year ago, there was a scar on his forehead, and his expression was sharper and gloomier than before.

   He followed the servant all the way, and in a bedroom, he met Zhao Qian, the king of Zhao.

   There are many bronze braziers burning in the hall, which is as warm as spring.

   Zhao Qian's face was pale, with a decadent look like a corpse.

   Ji Fu came in and glanced at him, a look of disdain on his face.

   When ...

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

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“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

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