Page 82 of Green Ravens

At the long table, Jo stood alongside her formidable brother and his cherished, who both exuded an effortless presence of power.

Surrounding them were six older men—Zorion assumed they were elders—all dressed in flowing linen robes.

They all had stark white hair either braided down their backs or tied in high knots and had the appearance of warriors aged into wisdom, each with an unmistakable air of nobility.

Men wearing gold-and-purple silk garments with wide sashes stood behind the older men’s seats like personal attendants.

Jo gestured for them to come inside.

He and Valor stopped near the two remaining seats and awaited further instruction.

“I am the veiled herald of Master Shen Wei, the Silent Thunder.” The man pulled out the high-backed chair and the elder sat. “We welcome you.”

The next one came forward in the exact same manner.

“I am the veiled herald of Master Lao Heng, Guardian of the Hidden Path.” He also pulled out a chair and allowed the elder man to sit. “We welcome you.”

An introduction was done for the remaining three, before Lion and Omega gave slight bows and sat at the head of the table.

He and Valor followed suit and bowed before sitting.

Jo stared at them, then smiled as if proud. She looked stunning in her long black silk dress, with a sheer veil resting over her black hair.

Now Zorion understood why she was called Sleek Panther.

Jo stood at the last seat on the elders’ side, and after everyone was seated, she announced, “Masters, I present to you, Zorion and Valor.”

Zorion and Valor slowly lowered their hoods.

A murmur of quiet approval circulated through the gathered masters, their aged faces reflecting curiosity and admiration.

Zorion shifted his gaze to Lion and Omega, finally seeing them without the shroud of shadows.

Lion’s name suited him. It wasn’t only his battle skill that earned it—it was his gorgeous appearance.

His hood had concealed his long golden mane—untouched by a single strand of gray—cascading past his broad shoulders. His high cheekbones and fair skin, smooth and unblemished, could’ve belonged to a model.

But his eyes struck Zorion the most, a shade of molten gold, glistening like beams of sunlight reflecting off a predator’s gaze. They held an intensity that was neither cool nor warm but measured, as if weighing everything before him with the wisdom of a king.

Then there was Omega.

Where Lion was regal strength, Omega was a threat of cunningness. His light-gray eyes shone with deadly intelligence.

His sleek black hair, unlike Lion’s wild mane, was tied back. He looked both relaxed and poised for action at any moment, like a desert viper buried beneath sand.

Their glasses were filled with water and their goblets with wine.

No one spoke as they all seemed to stare at him and Valor with equal parts fascination and confusion.

Zorion assumed it was warranted. If someone had told him he was dining with a man with the combined DNA of a raptor, he’d stare too.

As they settled in, dozens of servers came in from side doors and began laying out an elaborate feast before them.

Lion’s tone was authoritative but kind. “Eat, brothers. I’m sure you are famished.”

There were platters of roasted venison and wild boar with crispy skin, set alongside grilled fish smothered in a foreign herb that made Zorion’s mouth water.

He held back his smirk as he watched Valor dig into the thick cuts of beef with gusto and then scoop a spoonful of spiced rice on top of some leafy greens. He had just enough room on his platter for the two pieces of freshly baked bread he added.

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