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... bes with pointed ears and green skin.

The other person, on the other hand, is two meters high, with a devil-like horn on his head, his muscles shackled, and a black epee on his back. He is a melee-type warrior.

Six senior testers, one hand on a key, plus two of Zhou Jian's hands are eight, plus one in the hands of the Lord of the Wind Temple, nine together.

In other words, no one will enter the second floor anymore.

But the other six did not know that they waited pati ...

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Luo Qingzhou became a little bastard of the Luo family in the Chengguo Mansion of the Great Yan Empire.

In order to help the second son of the Luo family regret his marriage, Luo Qingzhou was forced to marry into a married woman and married a foolish bride who was said to be unable to speak or laugh.

It wasn’t until after worshiping heaven and earth and after the wedding night in the bridal chamber that he suddenly realized:

“My wife, something is wrong!”

Not only is there something wrong with the lady, even the two little maids beside the lady and the rest of the Qin family are all wrong!

The big maid is sweet, charming and seductive, with a voice like a lark;

The little maid was as cold as ice and snow with a murderous aura, her throat was sealed as soon as she drew her sword.

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The little cousin is arrogant and domineering, and the whip is fatal.

The father-in-law has a serious face, but secretly speaks dirty words.

The mother-in-law is as beautiful as a flower, and she loves to roll her eyes at the top of her head.

The second elder brother devoted himself to practicing martial arts and said that he wanted to honor his ancestors.

As for Luo Qingzhou, he just wanted to be a son-in-law honestly, and then sneak around and be invincible…

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.