Lin Feng rose; he turned away from the Emperor, his heavy cape sweeping behind him.
He didn’t look at the cheering nobles or the swooning princesses.
He turned his gaze directly to the right of the dais, where General Lin Tianzong and his family stood waiting.
Ji’an’s entire body went rigid and stiff. She braced herself, fighting the cowardly urge to turn around and sprint back to the carriage.
Lin Feng walked toward them, his heavy boots echoing on the stones.
General Lin didn’t wait for his son to reach him. The War God, the man who demanded absolute military discipline from everyone around him, completely abandoned protocol.
General Lin strode forward, his massive arms opening wide.
"Father," Lin Feng murmured, the stoic mask of the Vanguard Commander softening into an expression of profound, weary relief.
They collided in a bone-crushing, desperate embrace. The clash of their heavy armors rang out like a bell. General Lin wrapped his arms around his eldest son, burying his face in the crook of Feng’s neck.
Ji’an stood ten feet away.
Her enhanced senses picked up the subtle, hitching tremor in her father’s massive chest. She saw the single, glistening tear escape the corner of the War God’s eye, hidden from the crowd, shed only for the son he had prayed to the heavens to bring back alive.
It was an incredibly raw, incredibly beautiful display of paternal love.
But Lin Ji’an couldn’t focus on the heartwarming reunion.
Because while Lin Feng was tightly returning his father’s embrace, his chin resting over the General’s heavy silver pauldron... his eyes were not closed.
They were wide open.
And they were locked, with laser-like precision, directly onto Lin Ji’an.
The air in Ji’an’s lungs completely evaporated. The ambient noise of the cheering crowd, the trumpets, and the shifting armor faded into a high-pitched, ringing static.
Lin Feng was staring at her.
It was not a quick, brotherly glance. It was not a superficial assessnt of her new, expensive silk robes.
It was a piercing, heavy, incredibly intense stare that felt as though it was physically bypassing her retinas and scanning the very core of her soul.
The silver-flecked eyes, identical to her own, were impossibly deep, swirling with a complex, terrifying mixture of emotions she could not even begin to parse.
There was no shock at her appearance. There was no confusion regarding her presence as an Inner Sect Elder.
It was a stare that spoke of profound knowledge. It was a gaze that actively hid countless, dangerous secrets behind an impenetrable wall of calm composure.
’He knows,’ the thought exploded in Ji’an’s mind, her blood turning to absolute ice.
But then, the analytical, web-novel-reading part of Ji’an’s brain flared to life, noticing a terrifying discrepancy.
’Wait,’ Ji’an analyzed, her panic montarily stalling. ’If he thinks a demon possessed his sister, he should be drawing his sword. He should be projecting killing intent. But he isn’t. He isn’t angry?’
The realization was sohow worse.
Lin Feng was staring at her with an intensity that bordered on obsession, a quiet, patient intensity that felt shockingly similar to the heavy, suffocating gaze of a certain Ice Demon she had left locked in a cave.
Lin Feng slowly pulled back from his father’s embrace, but he kept his hand firmly on the General’s shoulder, offering a warm, dutiful smile.
"It is good to be ho, Father," Feng said smoothly.
He then turned his body, facing the rest of his family.
He offered a polite, distant nod to his half-sisters, who were currently blushing furiously and staring at the ground.
He reached out and ruffled Xuan’s hair, causing the thirteen-year-old to beam with hero-worship.
And then, Lin Feng stepped directly in front of Lin Ji’an.
He towered over her, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the setting sun. He slled of cold iron, pine, and the faint, coppery scent of old blood.
Ji’an swallowed hard. She forced herself to et his gaze, channeling every ounce of her arrogant Head Chef persona to hide the terror screaming in her head. She dropped into a respectful bow suitable for a younger brother greeting a war hero.
"Welco back, Eldest Brother," Ji’an said, her voice a perfectly modulated, deep baritone, carefully devoid of any trembling. "The estate has been empty without you."
She waited for the strike, for the accusation. She waited for him to shatter the illusion.
Lin Feng stood perfectly still for a long mont.
He slowly reached out. His large, heavily calloused, leather-gloved hand moved toward her face.
Ji’an forcefully suppressed the urge to flinch, locking her knees to remain in place.
His fingers didn’t strike her. They gently, almost reverently, brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.
His thumb lingered for a fraction of a second against the line of her jaw, an incredibly gentle touch, yet it radiated a terrifying possessiveness.
"You have changed, little bird," Lin Feng murmured, his voice so soft that only she could hear it over the roar of the crowd.
His dark eyes flashed with a secret, knowing glint that sent a violent shiver straight down Ji’an’s spine.
"You have grown so... strong," Lin Feng continued, his lips curving into a slow, breathtakingly handso, and completely unreadable smile. "I look forward to discovering exactly what you have beco in my absence. We have much to discuss, Ji’an."
He dropped his hand and turned back toward the Emperor, seamlessly reintegrating into the role of the dutiful commander.
Lin Ji’an remained frozen in place, her heart hamring a frantic, terrified rhythm against her ribs.
The political sanctuary of her sect status ant nothing. The threat of Xiao Yichen sitting on the dais was a secondary concern.
Because as she looked at the broad, armored back of her supposedly righteous, perfect eldest brother, Lin Ji’an realized with absolute, horrifying certainty that she had not escaped the plot.
She had rely walked into the crosshairs of the most dangerous, complicated, and most intimately terrifying man of them all.
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