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... of the tower.

Hang Wan'er already felt something, and walked into the shallow marks of the footprints on the stone brick.

The stone wall is indeed a fragment of a monster that is about to be reborn.

But her five immortal ropes flew out, just like she practiced many times on weekdays, tying them gracefully and just right, to ensure that after they were put on the stove, the flesh and bones would not fall apart.

"It's... ugly."

Hang Waner said after thinking.

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“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

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Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.