The Cold King’s Poisonous Consort

“Beat her to death! Beat that stinking beggar to death!” The busy street was packed with people, yet a crowd had gathered in one corner, apparently up to something. In the middle of the ring stood a woman in ragged clothes. As the crowd beat her, she didn't cry out, only shielding her head and dodging this way and that. “Hey, stop! Stop it!” A voice rose above the commotion, sounding full of righteous indignation. “So many people bullying one girl? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?” At the words, everyone turned. The owner of the clear voice was a young boy, with delicate features and bright eyes. He looked only seventeen or eighteen, and his face now wore an expression of righteousness...