He Mo observed the three people before him with interest. Their clothing wasn’t formal enough for an official audience, but the fabric was of high quality—clearly not something ordinary people could afford. Judging by their location in this affluent district, their family must have deep financial roots.
But in the end, they were just merchants.
His gaze swept over the noblewoman kneeling on the ground, so desperate to bury her face into the dirt, and then to her husband, who was hanging from the greenhouse beam, his expression filled with despair. Without a flicker of emotion, He Mo shifted his eyes away.
Merchants were like drifting duckweed—rootless, powerless.
They couldn’t even compare to politicians. At best, they were mere ants.
Even while kneeling, this one still couldn’t keep her eyes steady. Clearly, she had no sense of propriety.
He didn’t bother looking at Leng Yirou, whose flushed face and gleaming eyes were filled with adoration. He was about to turn away when his steps suddenly paused.
At that moment, he finally noticed—there was one person who, from the very beginning, had remained standing, silently watching him.
That gaze…
It was different from a woman’s shy admiration for a man. It wasn’t the panicked fear of those kneeling around him. Nor was it the obsequious flattery of someone eager to cling to power.
It was as if a thin veil separated her from the world—ethereal, indifferent, utterly unshaken.
This woman…
Leng Chao, kneeling on the ground, was already furious at Leng Yirou’s disgraceful display. If he could, he would have locked her up at home to prevent her from ever stepping out. But now, seeing Leng Yiyao standing there motionless—worse, daring to meet the Marshal’s gaze directly—he wanted to strangle her on the spot.
Were these two trying to drive him insane?
Did they even read their books, or had they fed them to the dogs?
Feeling the burning glare from behind, Leng Yiyao remained utterly unaffected. Instead, she curved her lips slightly, studying the man before her.
This man… His appearance was too striking. Bathed in the setting sun, he hardly seemed human.
His features were sculpted with divine precision—flawless, captivating. But what truly made people tremble was the aura he exuded.
As she gazed into his eyes, she felt as if she were staring into a mirror made of obsidian, reflecting her every move with eerie clarity.
A man with eyes like these, nothing could touch his heart. The entire world left no imprint on him—proof of an extreme, unshakable indifference. But that wasn’t the most important thing.
Leng Yiyao took a slow, deliberate breath, then tilted her head slightly and gave him a knowing smile.
She had been right.
This man carried a scent she had known for lifetimes—the sharp, decisive edge of bloodshed. It made her blood boil with excitement.
The stench of blood—whether from his hands or from the countless corpses she had seen in her past life—was far heavier than that of anyone standing or kneeling in this room combined.
He and she… were the same kind of people.
They cared nothing for others’ opinions, ignored society’s moral judgments. They focused only on results, on effectiveness—no matter the cost, even if it meant annihilation.
Lowering her gaze lazily, she glanced at the pathetic state of the neighboring family and chuckled in boredom.
A king’s bedchamber allows no others to sleep.
Daring to meddle in the arms trade was akin to reaching into a fire for chestnuts.
Without the resolve or ability to seize food from the tiger’s mouth, all that remained was surrender—placing their lives in someone else’s hands.
He Mo had been watching her all along. He hadn’t missed her cold indifference toward the neighbors, nor the sharp, calculating gaze she had turned on him.
But what intrigued him most was the chilling ruthlessness hidden beneath her precise understanding of the world.
She was barely fifteen or sixteen, yet her composure was unshaken, her posture effortless.
Most surprising of all—her eyes shone with an unidentifiable light. Even he, for the first time, could not decipher what lay within them.
Since when could a merchant’s family raise a daughter like this?
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