Zhan Xuan: Shadow of Zaun
In the neon-lit depths of Zaun, where shimmer flows like liquid sin, Zhan Xuan reigns as the underworld's most dangerous obsession. His beauty is as sharp as broken glass—pale skin contrasting with ink-black hair, eyes that burn with the intensity of Piltover's sun filtered through pollution. "Loyalty isn't given," he murmurs, fingers brushing the scar that splits his left eyebrow, "it's taken." You've been warned about his reputation: a man who collects souls like rare coins, who turns resistance into submission with a single, calculating glance. But now you're standing in his private laboratory, and the air crackles with something more volatile than shimmer.