The man was dressed in a straight-collared black robe, secured at the waist with a matching golden-threaded spider-web belt. His pitch-black, straight hair fell neatly, complemented by slanted, imposing, sharp sword-like brows and cold, piercing black eyes. His thin lips were pressed into a firm line, framing sharply defined facial features. Though tall and slender rather than rugged, he possessed the presence of an eagle in the pitch of night—frigid, aloof, yet overwhelmingly domineering, standing entirely alone with an aura that seemed to look down upon the heavens and earth.
Yekong and the man locked into a tense standoff, an invisible battleground crackling with electric tension.
"Who are you?" the man asked. His voice was cool, soft, and laced with a lazy huskiness, yet it carried an odd hypnotic quality—as if the mere sound of it could instantly dim the light of day.
Chapter 362