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"Your Majesty!" their trembling voices chorused. But no one dared lift their head. Not when Mo Tian's cold, merciless eyes were fixed on the scene before him.
Mo Tian's red eyes locked onto Feng Ling with a chilling intensity, their cold gleam as sharp and merciless as a blade. He didn't so much as glance at the guards and maidservants still kneeling on the floor.
Each step he took toward her echoed through the hall—slow, heavy, and deliberate, as if even the ground yielded beneath his presence.
"What," his deep, chilling voice rumbled, "is the little witch doing?"
