Rommel sat respectfully on a fragrant wooden chair made of sandalwood, his well-tailored lake-green silk robe complementing his handsome features, exuding an air of elegant nobility.
With a ribbon of swirling silver-white soul flame above his head, Rommel tasted the tea, both sour and sweet, while scrutinizing the lovely owner of Feilengcui, Ning Yu, without blinking.
To put it in cliché terms, the wheels of history roll forward, and people age with each passing day. Yet Rommel has never comprehended one thing: why is it that everyone started from scratch to conquer the world, yet he, despite his intelligence, ends up in a worsening plight, while the Feilengcui Lord Richard, a brute, crude and violent, has such beautiful wives and formidable power.
Is it just luck?
Rommel thought not.
