Han Xin's glare was a blade honed by fury, his eyes locked onto the elder immortal who had dared to threaten his son. The tension in his jaw was visible, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched. If no one stood in his way, he would've shattered the council member's skull without hesitation. The immortal, cloaked in centuries of pride, felt a chill crawl down his spine, a rare sensation for one so ancient. Han Xin's wrath was palpable, divine, and deeply personal.
Han Jun stepped forward, voice calm but firm. "Give him to me," he said to Xiang Yu.
Xiang Yu hesitated, arms tightening protectively around Han Jingxi. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't—"
Han Jun interrupted gently. "Trust me. I will protect him, just as I protected Han Xin."
Xiang Yu bit his lip, torn. But then he glanced at Han Xin, whose nod was quiet but resolute. With a reluctant breath, Xiang Yu released his grip.
