Feng Ling gasped, a sharp cry slipping past her lips as the world tilted around her. The Demon Lords standing nearby—Yin Zhi and the others—stared in stunned disbelief.
Is this still the same Mo Tian they knew? they thought, wide-eyed. The same cold-faced Supreme Demon Emperor who never let anyone near him? The same man who slaughtered without hesitation?
Blood stained his robe, his expression unreadable. Yet, there was something unnervingly human in the way he held her—something none of them had ever seen before.
Mo Tian's gaze swept over them, cold and sharp enough to pierce bone. "Clean up this mess," he said flatly. "Dispose of the bodies, and ensure anyone who witnessed what happened tonight never speaks of it. If they can't be trusted—silence them."
His tone was calm, but the chill beneath it was enough to make the survivors' blood run cold.
