The clearing was so silent you could hear the crackle of a single spark in the fire.
Cāng Jì's golden eyes narrowed into thin, reptilian slits, and the air around him began to shimmer with a dry, scorching heat.
"A cub?" the Dragon Prince repeated, his voice dropping. "You compare the architect of the Northern Peaks to a.…..a whelp? I shall punish you for that insolence, star-thief. Perhaps I'll turn your vocal cords into a string."
Zhāo Yàn stepped in front of Bai Yue instantly, his tails flaring like a crimson fan. "You will do no such thing, lizard. Touch her, and First Generation or not, I will tear those silks right off your back."
"Stay away from Mama!" Yòu Lín shouted, throwing a small, half-eaten star-fruit at Cāng Jì's pristine boots. Thud. The sticky juice splattered against the bronze fabric.
Cāng Jì froze. He looked at the fruit. He looked at the tiny, defiant fox kit. He looked back at his ruined boot. A vein throbbed in his temple.
