"Do you want the Vermilion Bird Venerable to kneel before you?"
"Yes."
How could anyone not want that…
The demonic claws that emerged from the blazing flames, dripping with blood, surrounded by wails and screams, heads rolling, and heroes bowing, filled with fear and horror. That grotesquely cruel beauty — Zhao Changhe had not spared his words about it to the Vermilion Bird, proclaiming it truly beautiful.
Even without seeing the face under the mask, it was truly beautiful.
His words seemed casual, without any hidden intent, a pure compliment, but in reality, it was a man's deepest desires of lust and conquest, something no one could deceive their own heart about.
But he had once dared not even think it.
