Itching for a punch

The atmosphere between He Nao and Zhang Wang was as cold as ice. 

Zhang Wang's mind was on fire, a live wire that was having a hard time to contain itself. He flexed his fingers, itching for a punch. "So? You're not… You're not going to tell me something about that?" He pointed furiously at the monolith-- or rather, he was pointing furiously at the spot next to the monolith where the person who called themselves Half Moon had appeared and disappeared.

The signs were telling. 

Silver hair and blue eyes, the black lightning that danced to his command. It was no secret that the Empress was still without child, which left the possibilities of the youth's identity to be a lot narrower.

Not that it made total sense either. But Zhang Wang wasn't prepared to be faced with something so startling so suddenly. And he didn't like being purposely kept in the dark. He growled, impatient with He Nao's silence.