At first, the purple she-wolf pup on Huan Yi's shoulder didn't seem to care about the playwright. But as she watched the interaction, her eyes narrowed at the playwright, shining with confusion.
Looks wise, the difference between the playwright and Huan Yi was like comparing a pile of cow dung to a divine pillar. But in the playwright's eyes, Taotie felt a familiar sensation—a burning and overwhelming desire to spite the world that, to this day, she'd only felt in her master's eyes.
"Raise your head." Huan Yi ordered, and without delay, the playwright obeyed, facing the Primordial Evil with his asymmetrical dark eyes.
"Little man, what's your name?" Perhaps out of respect for this diseased playwright, Huan Yi gave him an opportunity to introduce himself.
"I was born as Sima Yi. But due to the naming taboo imposed by King Zhaoxiang, when I migrated to Qin, I had to change my name. Now, it's Sima Shi."
