Mo Tian froze, his chest tightening. He had not seen that smile in a long time. Since she entered the demon palace, she had never once smiled at him—unlike the way she had nine years ago, when she tended his wounds with her own hands and warned him not to get hurt again.
His thoughts shattered when Feng Ling's voice turned cold. "So, Your Majesty… what do you think of my deal?"
The question hung sharp in the air, and only then did he notice Yin Zhi standing rigid at her side, his face etched with anger.
"Your Majesty," Yin Zhi said, his voice cold, "aren't you being too much? Hundreds died here. Not five. As the empress of the demon realm, shouldn't you put the people first—before your personal schemes?"
