Ⅸ
Under the moonlight, the blond hair stained with cheap dye had long since turned a grayish, yellow-tinged flaxen color. Though the contact lenses were high-end, they were hardly rare.
Only items with Mystic Art functions would draw anyone's attention.
Looking at Pistrie before him, the man from the Mystical Side could not help feeling deep contempt and an indescribable pleasure well up inside him.
The Old Lion was someone he dared not even look up to.
But the man's son was an idiot.
To blend in with those worthless commoners, he had actually left his bodyguards behind and even used "commoners' belongings" to disguise himself.
Such childish behavior nearly made the man from the Mystical Side laugh aloud.
Of course, what truly delighted him was that he could hunt down the Old Lion's youngest son and even have a perfectly legitimate excuse to rough him up a little.
The mere thought made him tremble all over with excitement.
That sensation far surpassed the pleasure of ejaculation.
How could physical pleasure compare to psychological satisfaction?
Just as before, when he had seen a pitiful little kitten, picked it up, slammed it viciously onto the ground, and then stomped on it hard a few times.
He would never forget how that felt.
That thrill deep in his heart was something he could savor forever.
And Pistrie before him?
He was even better than that kitten.
A young lion whose teeth had yet to grow.
Simply wonderful!
Huff, huff!
As the man from the Mystical Side stared at Pistrie's youthful face, his breathing quickened, and his tongue involuntarily licked his lips.
Once his parched lips were slightly moistened, a brush of the night breeze made the desire in his heart burn even hotter.
The orders from above were to capture Pistrie alive.