Chapter 1220: Plump Rouge
Ansla’s uncle’s meaty hand immediately trembled when he heard the words. They were so simple, and seemingly said so very casually, and yet the weight of them was so very sinister.
It was the sort of accusation that might not have been levied at all in most situations—the sort of thing the host might look the other way for...
Until someone pointed it out.
In an instant, the blood had already drained from his face, and in an instant later, he lost his head.
Sylas felt very clearly where the power came from—a surging might from one of the shortest curved tables, but one that took center stage nonetheless.
There were only five people at the table. Draped in cloaks, only their irises, glowing in the darkness, were visible. Well, other than the longer, pale hand that stretched from the sleeves of one.
It was a hand that could only be described as beautiful. It was ashy pale, but it had a certain glimmer to it that caught one’s attention—almost as though beneath a real layer of flesh, there was a crystalline mesh that formed their bones, radiating out a reflective light.
It was the sort of hand graceful enough to be a woman’s, but radiating enough power to be a man’s. As for which it was, it was impossible to tell with a single glance alone.
However, it did radiate something that caught Sylas’ attention—something that reminded him of his \[Chaotic Menace] Gene Skill, a skill that he was only growing more fond of as he tested out its limits and powers.