Chapter Thirteen: Divergence

"This young man seems unfamiliar!"

A charming female voice rang out from behind. Zhao Yuan paused for a moment but made no move to look back. Seeing that the person before him showed no sign of alarm, he knew the woman behind was likely not a threat.

As the footsteps drew closer, Zhao Yuan raised his brows ever so slightly. The voice had carried a hint of flirtatiousness—surely she must be quite the beauty.

Suddenly, he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw a slender, fair hand resting there, its fingers finely shaped, the skin so delicate it seemed it would bruise at a touch. Such a hand could only belong to a certain kind of woman.

A heady fragrance wafted around him. Zhao Yuan wrinkled his nose in distaste but did not turn around or show surprise; he merely watched as the woman slowly circled to stand before him.

To be honest, Zhao Yuan was momentarily taken aback by her beauty. She was, without a doubt, a rare flower among mortals.

Her face was small and exquisitely formed, her features refined, but it was her half-awake, half-beguiled gaze that drew him in—a pair of large, slender eyes that could only be described as foxy, reminiscent of Daji herself. All this was aside from the hand still resting on his shoulder.

Her other hand was raised to her lips as she laughed, hiding her mouth but failing to conceal her neat white teeth and luscious, tempting lips.

Had it been anyone else, they would have been utterly captivated by her charms. But Zhao Yuan was not an ordinary man; in his eyes, all women were the same. Thus, his face remained calm and indifferent.

Zhao Ling’er, too, was momentarily stunned by the sight before her, for she had never encountered anyone so strikingly handsome. The woman's smile was as radiant as a blossom, her lips crimson, her teeth white, and those bewitching eyes seemed to steal souls.

Following the graceful line of her neck downward, Zhao Ling’er saw that she wore a fitted dress that hugged her curves, outlining a figure that was nothing short of perfection.

Her legs were long and straight, the skirt she wore nearly translucent, giving tantalizing glimpses as she moved. Even as a woman herself, Zhao Ling’er couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight.

She quickly averted her gaze and looked down at her own flat chest, then up at the woman's proud curves, feeling a mix of envy and jealousy.

"This young man is quite good-looking—fair and delicate, just my type," the woman said with a raised brow, masking her earlier surprise at Zhao Yuan’s indifference.

Zhao Yuan removed her hand from his shoulder with unconcealed disdain, even brushing his shoulder as if to rid himself of something unclean.

The woman withdrew her hand, a fleeting look of embarrassment crossing her face before she recovered her bright smile, acting as though nothing had happened.

Zhao Ling’er, seeing this, couldn’t suppress a secret giggle behind her hand; after all, it was always amusing to see a beautiful woman put in her place.

But while Zhao Ling’er was amused, others wore less pleasant expressions.

"Zhao Yuan, didn’t you say you wanted to stay here?" a coarse male voice called from behind. Zhao Yuan turned, surprised, to see a burly man towering over him by two heads.

Showing no fear, Zhao Yuan met his disdainful gaze and nodded slightly, as if to say he did intend to stay—what did the man want?

Looking down at Zhao Yuan, the man's irritation was plain. His anger simmered beneath the surface as he spoke coldly, "You can stay, but she must remain in Demonbane for a time."

Zhao Yuan followed his gesture to see Zhao Ling’er, who looked utterly bewildered at being singled out. She stared at Zhao Yuan in confusion, then at the man’s burning eyes, shrinking back in fear behind Zhao Yuan.

Sensing her anxiety, Zhao Yuan, though not as imposing as the other man, shielded her protectively from his gaze.

"No. Ling’er must stay with me," Zhao Yuan replied, pulling her closer, wary they might try to take her by force.

At his refusal, the man’s anger flared. He withdrew his hand, clenching it into a fist at his side, the air around him growing colder.

Feeling the drop in temperature, Zhao Ling’er shivered, clutching Zhao Yuan's clothes tightly.

"So, is all you can do intimidate people? Is that all?" Zhao Yuan said, arching his brow as he met the man’s icy glare, his tone mocking and unruffled.

"You—" The man clenched his fists, clearly itching for a fight, but with so many eyes upon him, he dared not act. Any violence would ruin his reputation and give Zhao Yuan ammunition against him. His eyes blazed with murderous intent.

Seeing this, Zhao Yuan’s casual contempt only deepened, though he said nothing. His presence alone was enough to keep the man, his face flushed with suppressed rage, in check.

"Zhao Yuan, since you’ve decided to stay, you’d best behave. As for Zhao Ling’er, we’ll assign people to protect her; you need not worry about her safety," someone interjected, seeing the man’s authority waver.

"Yes, rest assured. If you stay here, you must follow our rules," others echoed, eager to persuade Zhao Yuan to hand over Zhao Ling’er. But Zhao Yuan was not one to be ordered about.

"Where I choose to stay is not dictated by a woman," Zhao Yuan replied, pulling the still-stunned Zhao Ling’er along, preparing to leave.

"Wait!" A crisp female voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Zhao Yuan didn’t need to turn to know who it was, but Zhao Ling’er did, glancing back to see the woman who had been embarrassed earlier approaching.

"Why are you all ganging up on a mere boy? He’s a guest—what if you scare him off?" The woman stepped between them, playing the peacemaker.