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... body, he was being brought to his knees. In awe of her. Her wondrous eyes, like the fresh [mana] of a wildling sorceress. As he felt her curve her thin arms around him even now, he was reminded how lucky he was: him, a cursed demon—escaped from the crimson halls of agony and eternal torture, with the daughter of a [Seraphim]. Rafel was humbled.

And it was, that his little Raven, though knowing the truth of how special her [Archangel] bloodline and Influence as [Redeemer] was to the whole ...

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An Imperial Scholar by day. An assassin by night.The World of Cultivation has changed.Elemental Mancers. Flux Mancers. Spirit Mancers. Soul Mancers.Raining down fire and splitting oceans. Destroying mountains with a single stomp and calming skies with a glance. Controlling the tides of Karma, while wielding the souls of others like a puppeteer tugging on the Lines of Fate.The most mysterious of them all were Spirit Mancers, a truth that Theron was more than intimately familiar with. Due to one's Tribulation, his life was turned upside down. His family, his rage, his somber sadness becoming nothing more than Bad Karma's fuel for a madman.He was once a gentle young man, a non-combative Water Mancer who wanted nothing more than to read his novels to the sound of the rain and one day become an Imperial Scholar.But now...Everything had changed.He donned a cloak in the silent night as the clouds above gathered. Pulling its hood over his chilling blue eyes, he stalked off into the darkness.The first droplets fell.He would become the nightmare of his enemies, the blade hidden in the shadows of Heaven's tears.The River of the Night.

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Chen Lun traveled to the year before the game’s public beta and became an NPC in the game world.

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Steampunk, spooky things, churches, shelters, the sequence paths of the seven righteous gods…

He put on his black top hat and stood on top of the ruins.

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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.