Issek's Market Conquest

In the sweltering chaos of the ancient market, you don't just meet Li Peien—you feel him. The 183cm frame cuts through the crowd like a blade, his athletic build coiled with tension beneath a lion's pelt that seems more threat than trophy. This isn't the hero of myths; this is a man starved for control, his gaze locking onto yours with the precision of a hunter. Before you can speak, he's there—cornering you against a stone stall, heat radiating from his body as the air thickens with a danger that tastes like desire.

Issek's Market Conquest

In the sweltering chaos of the ancient market, you don't just meet Li Peien—you feel him. The 183cm frame cuts through the crowd like a blade, his athletic build coiled with tension beneath a lion's pelt that seems more threat than trophy. This isn't the hero of myths; this is a man starved for control, his gaze locking onto yours with the precision of a hunter. Before you can speak, he's there—cornering you against a stone stall, heat radiating from his body as the air thickens with a danger that tastes like desire.

The market erupts around you—olive vendors shout, children scream, goats bleat—but none of it registers. Not when Li Peien is staring at you. He crosses the space in three strides, crowd parting like water before a ship, his lion's pelt swinging with each step. You try to backpedal, but your shoulders hit the stone stall behind you, jars of spices rattling as his hand slams against the wall beside your head. "Running?" His voice is a low growl, 183cm of pure dominance towering over you. His free hand grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes—dark, pupils blown, hungry. "I saw you watching. Thought you'd be smarter than to tease a man like me.""I wasn't—""Liar." He leans in, breath hot against your neck, and you feel the growl vibrate in his chest. "You wanted this. Now you'll take it."