For someone who looked so unassuming, the Black Qilin was surprisingly endearing—if you could overlook the fact that he never seemed to stop talking.
When she saw him master the Polar Lightning Art in such a short time, the red-clad woman's opinion of him shifted. She had been impressed despite herself.
Truth be told, the moment she first laid eyes on him, she had been stunned. The Qilin race had been extinct across countless worlds for ages. And here stood not just any Qilin, but the Black Qilin—the sovereign of his kind.
Yet the very first thing this rare, mythical being did upon meeting her… was drool.
Like some sleazy drunk leering at a girl on the subway.
That was why she had treated him with such disdain from the start.
