Oversight

Ye Xinghui was the youngest son born to the current Ye Family head when the man was nearly three hundred years old. He was only eleven this year, a true child of his father's old age.

Ever since his birth, he had been honored and pampered like gold and jade, treasured beyond measure. His older siblings and elders in the clan had always greeted him with smiling faces and showered him with care. He had practically grown up cradled in everyone's palms—when had he ever truly suffered the slightest grievance?

Usually, guards both overt and hidden never left his side. Most of the time, any danger that might have existed was silently strangled in its cradle before it could come within thirty feet of him.

When had he ever so vividly experienced this ultimate terror of facing a prehistoric beast alone, with his life and death entirely in another's hands?

The pressure emanating from Ning Yantong was not mere intimidation. It seemed to contain tangible weight, bearing down not only on Ye Xinghui's body and leaving his tendons and bones weak, but also striking viciously against his fragile mind.

Extreme panic intertwined with instinctive fear. His legs gave way, and he could no longer support himself. With a thud, he collapsed onto the cold ground without the slightest regard for appearances, staining his costly, luxurious robes with mud.

Forced to raise his head in an utterly wretched posture, he could see nothing through his tear-blurred vision but Ning Yantong's figure, radiating terrifying majesty.

Boundless terror was like ice water in the bitterest days of winter, spreading down his spine and instantly soaking through all four limbs and every bone. Even his fingertips had turned icy cold.

"Young Master Ye—"

Ning Yantong's voice seemed to descend from the ninth heaven, every