Her figure was hidden beneath an aquamarine dress, and her hair was tied in to a high bun atop her head. She was so captivating some men forgot to breathe, and she sat in the front where everyone could see right beside the Terminator. She looked frail beside the towering convert.
Mo Xiao was respectful and demure, seated quietly with her hands folded in her lap. She watched the crowds with a small, humble smile on her lips. The Terminator exuded a stately calm. The din of celebration didn’t seem to affect him, as though he hardly noticed it at all. Those who peered his direction would quickly flinch and avert their gaze. A pressure fierce enough to flatten you was felt whenever someone stared too long. It wasn’t by design, but rather a result of the Terminator’s staggering power. His effect on reality was uncomfortable for most.
