1 The Protagonist Locked Inside a Cage
“Please, spare me.”
In the dimly lit room, the purple-haired man was drenched in blood. He staggered and fell to the ground, watching as the figure before him slowly advanced. Amid the chaos strewn across the floor, the other man remained impeccably clean, not a single bloodstain tainting even the hem of his clothes.
Yet, in the fallen man’s eyes, this silver-haired figure was the mastermind behind all the carnage. With each step the silver-haired man took toward him, he seemed on the verge of fainting from terror, begging desperately for mercy.
“Please, spare me! I’ll do anything!”
He pleaded ceaselessly. The other simply nodded. Before a look of wild joy could spread across the purple-haired man’s face, the silver-haired man added, “I want to spare you too.”
“But my potion is missing one last ingredient,” he said, holding a vial in which elemental magic was coalescing. “Your family and friends are calling for you. How could you abandon them?”
The silver-haired elf chuckled softly, gazing at the man before him as one might admire a prized ingredient. “Come, reunite with them.”
Having uttered this ominous phrase, the purple-haired man let out a piercing scream as he was drawn into the vial, completing the final surge of magical energy.
The bottle emitted a light, tinkling sound. With a soft pop, the silver-haired elf removed the stopper and drank the overflowing potion in one gulp.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said. The wounds on his face split open, releasing torrents of magic. One by one, grotesque tendrils replaced his legs. At last, the man transcended this barrier and transformed into a true Abyssal Demon God.
——
Zong Ming rose to his feet, his expression grave.
His deep blue hair was a symbol of condensed magical energy, a rarity even within his noble family. Like his father, he possessed this pure blue hair.
The young man in the mirror had piercing eyes, a high nose bridge, sword-shaped brows, and starry eyes. His face carried a sharpness tinged with a hint of wickedness, marked by a small mole at the corner of his eye—a striking and enchanting visage. Zong Ming’s gaze swept past the reflection to the distance. Raising his hand, a servant soon knocked on the door softly, respectfully asking, “Young master, do you have any instructions?”
Zong Ming looked at him, hesitating. The servant dared not raise his head, waiting patiently before hearing him ask, “What is Father doing?”
The servant was momentarily stunned but quickly replied, “The Prime Minister has gone to the Mist Forest in search of alchemical materials and is already on the way back.”
Zong Ming lowered his eyes toward the servant, his gaze strangely distant, as if recalling something. After a moment, he asked again, “After hunting, Father usually brings back prey. Did he bring back any... captives on this return journey?”
The servant pondered. Zong Ming waited patiently. After some thought, the servant answered, “I’m not sure if the Prime Minister captured any prisoners, but I heard he brought back a... elf from the MistI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.