Xia Long
"Master, there are people," Xia Jiang whispered, his hand inching towards the hilt of his sword, and he gestured towards his neck with a slicing motion.
With his hair bleached white by age, his countenance etched with deep wrinkles, and his hunched back giving him the appearance of one on the brink of death, he seemed frail at first glance. However, the passive aura he exuded was nothing short of terrifying, casting doubt on how the hell did he look like a man with half a foot in grave.
"We are from the Xia clan. How could we be so cruel to anyone?" Xia Long said, his voice oozing false charm as he opened his fans. They revealed a black dragon picture, but his eyes told a different tale. They flashed with a malevolent glint, clearly signalling Xia Jing's ominous presence.