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... and two ritual grasses, the wandering has been completely demonized.

His cultivation has returned to the peak period, the peak of Danjing, the shameful spirit in his body, without concealment, spurting out.

He giggled behind him, freeing his dark bone wings. His magic sickle, enough to break through all mystic shields, gave out a faint cold light.

Under the sky, the two figures flashed like two thunderbolts, hitting each other and polishing half of the sky.

Huli scor ...

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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.

“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.

“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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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.