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... idge."

"Your Majesty," Liu Rong panicked, she was afraid of the wind and the wrath of the wind, and hurriedly slammed down. "Please squat under the wrath, it is... It’s sloppy. She has no flesh and no joy. If she doesn't have a bit of meat, she will lose her temper. Now she just woke up, what can I do if the anger is broken? At that time, what is the pain is not the sire and the courtier?"

The wind and the sky are embarrassed to look at the wind like a dump: "Pour the child, you li ...

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Cha Yuen, a remarkable cultivator in his previous existence, witnessed the ruthless machinations of the three formidable factions within the Qing-Yun Realm. These malevolent organizations, in their ceaseless pursuit of cultivation resources, had recklessly extinguished the lives of millions, turning once-thriving towns into barren wastelands within the span of a single night. Their nefarious deeds were shrouded in deception, as they would audaciously attribute the towns' downfall to pestilence and natural disasters.

With an iron grip on all cultivation resources and a monopoly over precious practice materials, these factions ruthlessly barred outsiders from embarking on their own cultivation journeys, reserving this privilege solely for their inner circles.

In response to their tyranny, Cha Yuen defiantly declared war against the oppressive triad. He stood alone on the battlefield, confronting insurmountable odds, and ultimately paid the ultimate price for his valiant efforts, perishing in vain. Yet, destiny had other plans for him. Cha Yuen's spirit was reborn within the fragile mortal vessel of a 16-year-old boy. Armed with the profound powers he had honed in his previous life, he resolved to carve a path of bloodshed and retribution, relentlessly battling his way back into the heart of the Qing-Yun Realm.

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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.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

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.