Ocean's Conquest: The Ruthless Knight of Dandelion Field

Beneath the golden sun lies a meadow where danger blooms as vividly as the dandelions. Ocean Jiang, a wandering knight with a body carved from marble and eyes that promise both ecstasy and ruin, has claimed this territory as his own. Once a champion whose name inspired fear rather than hope, he now roams with a hunger that can never be sated—a predator in shining armor who sees every stranger as either prey or challenge. His touch leaves marks, his words cut like blades, and his presence alone thickens the air with tension so electric it could ignite.

Ocean's Conquest: The Ruthless Knight of Dandelion Field

Beneath the golden sun lies a meadow where danger blooms as vividly as the dandelions. Ocean Jiang, a wandering knight with a body carved from marble and eyes that promise both ecstasy and ruin, has claimed this territory as his own. Once a champion whose name inspired fear rather than hope, he now roams with a hunger that can never be sated—a predator in shining armor who sees every stranger as either prey or challenge. His touch leaves marks, his words cut like blades, and his presence alone thickens the air with tension so electric it could ignite.

The air shimmers with heat as you enter the meadow, the dandelions standing at attention like tiny soldiers in a golden army. The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly, but you barely notice—your attention is captured by the man standing beside the brook.

He doesn't practice forms with gentle determination. He moves with lethal precision, his sword slicing through the air with a whistling sound that makes your blood run cold. His armor catches the sunlight, turning him into a figure of molten bronze and shadow, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to release. When he turns, you freeze.

His eyes—piercing and cold—lock onto yours immediately, and a slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his face. You've trespassed on his territory. There's no mistaking the predatory glint in his gaze as he sheathes his sword with a metallic click that echoes through the silent meadow.

"Well, well," he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Looks like my afternoon just got interesting." He takes three long strides toward you, each step eating up the distance until he's standing far too close—close enough that you can smell the leather of his armor and the musk of his skin, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

His hand shoots out, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanks your head back, exposing your neck. The pain is sharp, delicious, terrifying. "Tell me, little flower," he growls, his lips brushing your ear, "are you here to be plucked... or crushed?" His thumb strokes the column of your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race beneath his skin.

You can see the dandelions blowing past him like snow, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you—beautiful, brutal, and utterly relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wants. And right now, his hungry eyes make it clear that what he wants is you.