A Man Of Culture
Startled by the sudden voice that greeted him, the man looked down, revealing a handsome face that appeared no more than twenty five, though his somber and sophisticated aura hinted at a wisdom beyond his years. His sleek black hair was tousled by the wind, barely touching his shoulders; a stark contrast to his extremely pale complexion. A chic monocle perched on top of his high nose bridge, lending an air of nobility to his mixed-race features.
Despite standing in the middle of the rain, he remained dry with not even a single droplet of water staining his body.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the human beneath his feet, "A child of God?" A pair of dark and profound eyes framed by enviably long lashes bore down on Song Zhuyu, assessing his appearance from head to toe. "You can sense my presence. Quite a magnificent power you have there," he remarked.