Phei should have been wrecked.
By every law of biology, physics, and the basic cruelty of human exhaustion, Phei should have been a smoking crater of a teenager—muscles screaming, lungs scorched, supernatural battery drained to zero after a full street-ball massacre against five Legacy princes, plus the small matter of walking on literal air in front of twenty thousand people who were still losing their minds online.
He wasn't even close to tired but instead seemed to want more.
Could go for a few rounds of sex before he called it a day. Like ten rounds.
Give or take.
The dragon in his blood wasn't humming anymore—it was purring alive and in hunger too, smug, wide awake, already sniffing the air for the next thing to devour. Every cell felt overclocked, electric, like someone had swapped his mitochondria for jet fuel and told them to party.
Phei knew that his hunger wasn't for food but for sex, lust... to fuck and wreck havoc in all marriages in all of Main Paradise families.
