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... eavy pressure of the Investiture of Gods almost made him breathless.

In contrast, other aspects did not make him so afraid.

“In other words, the Investiture of Gods is a powerful space. No matter what kind of soul enters it, it will become extremely talented.”

When the few of them heard Qin Yu’s words, they were all somewhat in disbelief.

“Yes, including the power of my Dao of Dreams. This power was comprehended by accident.”

“After obtaining the Nineteent ...

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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.