14 The Villainous Forces Make a Brilliant Entrance

Dinner at the manor was rather casual, arranged entirely according to Zong Ming’s preferences that day. The servants had just received a fresh shipment of game, so tonight’s meal was roasted monster meat.

The charcoal fire was ignited with magic, burning perfectly. On the dining table lay slices of tender beef, cut evenly from the choicest, fattiest parts of the monster. Back when Zong Ming was still a corporate drone, he enjoyed going to barbecue joints with colleagues after work. But most of those places used ingredients that had been stored for some time before reaching the kitchen; some even used frozen meat. Nothing like now, when the monsters were slaughtered and processed right in the kitchen. By the time the meat arrived at the table, it still had a faint, lively bounce, its magical energy not yet dissipated, which prevented spoilage.

After the servants arranged the food on the table, they withdrew. Zong Ming disliked being waited on, so he loosened his tightly fastened collar and took the tongs to roast the meat himself. The young elf sat on a chair raised high enough to give him a clear view of the tabletop.

Zong Ming placed a slice of tender meat on the griddle. The moment it touched the hot iron mesh, a sizzling sound rang out—delightful and pleasing—while the enticing aroma of roasting meat wafted up into his nostrils. As he flipped the meat, he saw a shimmering, water-like gloss ripple across the surface, the juices oozing out and forced downward by the heat, only to quickly congeal upon contact with the air.

Elemental energy was truly wondrous; the fragrance in the air made one almost want to swallow their tongue. Zong Ming picked up the meat with the tongs and crushed a chili-like fruit beside him, scattering the powder over the meat. The powder carried a sweet, fruity note that blossomed on the tongue before releasing a subtle, fiery heat, warming the palate. He placed the meat into his bowl, noticing the tender morsel glistening with a jelly-like texture, almost gelatinous. Yet, once seasoned and placed on the tongue, it melted swiftly, delivering the perfect balance of flavor and texture. Swallowing it brought pure enjoyment in both aroma and taste.

The spicy sensation was invigorating, reminiscent of the carefree days when he would sit at the table, clutching a beer and drinking heartily after work. Turning around, he picked up a fruit resembling a stone and gently twisted it open. The soft, white flesh revealed itself, seedless and fragrant, perfect for a satisfying bite. After a few mouthfuls to quell the heat, he reached again for more roasted meat, chewing thoughtfully. A sheen of moisture glistened in his golden eyes—sparkling and beautiful.

“Delicious!” he exhaled warmly. Before the young elf lay only a large chunk of raw meat. The Abyssal elves’ dietary habits had fundamentally changed. Though they could eat plants, they favored meat, and it had to be raw.

The cat-sized elf opened his mouth wide, almost splitting his face, revealing sharp teeth that gleamed brightly. He bit deeply into the raw meat, eyes squeezed shut in delight as he chewed. Watching this scene, Zong Ming felt as though he were witnessing a live stream of a cat enjoying raw food.

If Lu were still in human form, such a sight might have inspired fear or aversion.

But now… it was an entirely different matter.

Zong Ming took another piece of roasted meat, savoring it himself first. The servants kept bringing dishes, piling plates up and then clearing them away—the appetite of a martial artist was enormous. After a few bites, appreciating the taste, he occasionally fed some to Lu. This time, while still eating, Lu suddenly felt something pressed to his mouth. The young elf propped himself up and, hesitating briefly, took the offered bite.

In the next moment, Lu’s body froze, then nearly exploded. Having lived in the Misty Forest, he had never encountered something like chili before. This was something Zong Ming had painstakingly cultivated. Lu sneezed violently, puffing up in his chair. Zong Ming couldn’t help but chuckle, then took a bite himself, gasping for breath from the heat.

Lu turned his head and saw Zong Ming opening his mouth before him, a glimpse of his tongue visible. His skin was fair and well cared for, covered by a thin, perfect layer of muscle. His long neck peeked out from his collar, revealing a patch of bare skin. For a moment, Lu could not decide which was more enticing: the delicious food or the man before him.

Sharing food was a way to express closeness; dining together also deepened bonds. Lu had never experienced this. Elves did dine with others, but Lu was the last elf in the world, with no chance to join others or share their food.

This friendly gathering, this shared meal among others, was impossible for Lu. Before becoming the Supreme God, others rejected him; after becoming a deity, he no longer sought closeness with anyone.

He had friends, yes, but he never ate food offered by them.

…Was this man truly his friend?

Or an enemy, a future ingredient for potions, or something else entirely?

Lu pondered deeply.

He realized he could not place Zong Ming in a proper category. In Lu’s world, others were either tools to be used, enemies, or puppets.

Was he going to make Zong Ming a puppet?

Zong Ming remained unaware of the thoughts flashing through Lu’s mind. He was simply feeding the young elf, sharing something delicious with a companion. It was perfectly natural. Besides, Lu was not yet his friend.

He was his son.

As the atmosphere inside the room grew warmer and Zong Ming enjoyed his meal, the butler’s interruption shattered the peace: a messenger from the Temple of Light had arrived.

Zong Ming paused briefly. Before he could speak, the uninvited guests entered. A clear voice sounded first:

“The emissaries of the Temple of Light, Starshine Empire branch, have come to pay respects.”

Two figures appeared—one tall, one short. The taller man spoke, while the silent girl walked ahead.

Upon stepping into the room, the girl’s deep blue eyes shimmered with radiance, as if containing countless stars and galaxies. Her gaze slipped past Zong Ming, seated in the main chair, and settled directly on the young elf.

“Abyssal offspring,” the girl’s voice was lively and crisp, her lips curling into a particularly charming smile, though her eyes showed no emotion. “Look, Kyle, we have found the elf.”

The man beside her wore a robe, exuding seriousness. His attention shifted from the young elf to Zong Ming. Though a grand magister himself, he bowed slightly to Zong Ming, acknowledging his strength with respect. Then he lifted his face, adopting an expression of equal dialogue, though still bearing the unyielding bearing of a temple emissary.

“Forgive our intrusion, Sword Saint,” the emissary said. “We have come seeking traces of the Abyssal offspring.”

Zong Ming said nothing.

The charcoal beneath the grill still sizzled, warmth lingering, but the man had lost his appetite for the meal. Beside him, Lu opened his mouth, swallowing the last piece of raw meat as blood trickled down his small face. Kyle watched this scene, eyes devoid of obvious disgust but quickly averted, murmuring a quiet prayer.

Zong Ming noticed this and reached out to wipe Lu’s face.

“You come at an inconvenient time. I have just finished dining and cannot host you for a meal.”

Kyle hesitated at this.

They had not arrived after dinner; rather, they had interrupted Zong Ming’s meal, disturbing the Sword Saint.

Kyle understood perfectly. The girl beside him, An, said, “Because of devotion to our Lord, the temple’s followers eat and pray at nine o’clock. The table is set with offerings to the God of Light, and candles are lit.”

An smiled faintly, simply asking, “Lord Zong Ming, did you begin your meal a bit early?”

So their timing was just unfortunate—they had not expected Zong Ming to be eating at this hour, hence the awkward encounter.

Zong Ming smiled subtly. He recognized the eyes the moment she appeared.

An.

One of Lu’s harem… or more accurately, she wasn’t quite part of the harem. She was originally a zealous follower of the God of Light, with a single-minded, obsessive nature. Born with spirit eyes, she could see all filth, evil spirits, and Abyssal creatures. The Temple of Light took her in from a young age, indoctrinating her with their beliefs.

As An grew older, her loyalty to the temple became absolute. Because her eyes only perceived elemental and Abyssal forces, everyone else appeared to her as a blurred, moving shadow.

Yet upon first seeing Lu, An realized she could clearly see his face.

And she fell in love with him.

At that time, readers were innocent and naïve, unaware of the author’s cruel intentions. This sweet, pure girl inspired great affection. Lu had saved An several times, teaching her alchemy. In her eyes, Lu was special; she seemed able to see only him, and only his face reflected in her vision.

When everyone assumed she was part of the harem and vied for her favor, Lu was spectacularly betrayed by An.

When Lu was suspected and rejected by others, An knew the truth and knew Lu would not do what they accused him of.

Yet she still stepped forward to accuse him and watched as he was led to the execution ground.

Lu asked, “Why did you do this?”

An replied, “Because I like you, Lu.”

“But you are an elf, and elves are sin.”

“But does it matter whether you did anything or not?”

These few lines nearly flooded the book’s comment section. An’s favor plummeted. Those who stubbornly believed she cared for Lu witnessed her happily standing beside the execution platform, watching the entire process.

She was simply regretful.

Regretful that the only person she could see was an elf.

This passage caused an uproar online. Some believed An’s personality was unique. Zong Ming sighed; this was not unique—it was cruelty. Pure cruelty.

In An’s heart, only God was the pillar. So when Lu later sought revenge, he gleefully retaliated. He made An a puppet, casting her into the Abyss. Afterward, An, once a worshipper of the God of Light, naturally began to worship Lu, seeing the former temple as an enemy.

She treated the Temple of Light as harshly as she had treated Lu, merciless even to her closest friends and most respected mentors.

Because opposing Lu was sin.

Looking into those eyes, Zong Ming felt complex emotions. Lu merely glanced at An before looking away—bored.

Suddenly restless, the servants silently cleared the table and left, the warm, harmonious atmosphere vanished. Zong Ming had just been speaking with Lu, coaxing him to eat more meat. Now the man rose and focused entirely on the newcomers, not sparing Lu even a sideways glance.

Temple of Light people.

Forever tiresome.

Zong Ming said, “I do not follow such rules.”

He ate as he pleased.

An hesitated, then said, “Could it be, Lord Zong Ming, that your faith in our Lord is not pure?”

Zong Ming replied, “Faith in God is not superficial; it must reside in the heart.”

“Hm?” An paused, voice crisp. “In the heart?”

“Yes, to truly respect God from within. When you think of Him constantly, our Lord receives your faith.”

Knowing An’s nature, Zong Ming spoke tersely, expecting her to press further. The girl’s expression faltered, and she involuntarily glanced at the man beside her. The emissary wished to interject but held back out of respect for the Sword Saint, instead smiling faintly.

This contradicted An’s usual teachings, and she fell into rare contemplation.

“No, no, if you don’t pray aloud, how will our Lord perceive the faith of his followers?”

“How do you know that when you pray in your heart, God cannot know your thoughts?”

An opened her mouth but found that to refute Zong Ming would mean admitting that the Lord of Light could not grasp his followers, yet the Lord was omnipotent. The girl grew confused.

Zong Ming looked at her and said, “Before praying, perhaps you should ask yourself why you do it…”

Zong Ming was about to continue when Kyle cleared his throat, signaling the need to interrupt.

“This uninvited visit is our fault,” Kyle stepped forward, blocking An. The gray-haired girl’s spirit eyes fixed intently on Zong Ming, curious about his thoughts, but not looking at Lu.

“The troubles at the Duke’s estate, Lord Zong Ming, you must be aware,” the man said gravely. “The temple’s emissaries found traces of the Abyssal Demon God there.”

“Someone attempted to summon the demon through sacrificial rites, manipulating them to draw a summoning array,” Kyle continued. “But the array was destroyed, and the demon’s whereabouts remain unknown. Abyssal offspring can only come to the human realm by possessing others, and such possession inevitably leaves traces…”

The elves, however, were truly Abyssal in nature and the perfect, rare vessels for the Abyssal Demon God.

All eyes in the room turned to the young elf. Lu lay face down on the table, not looking at them but at Zong Ming.

He saw the blue-haired man staring back.

In that moment, despite having erased all traces and never leaving Zong Ming’s side, Lu felt his body tense under the gaze of those golden eyes.

“Even if you did it, what then?” a voice said. “Elves are despised by all.”

Suspicious, cold, rejecting, even hateful eyes stared. Lu remained unmoved, even bored.

But what if it were Zong Ming?

If his gaze were filled with suspicion, if he looked at Lu with such eyes…

In that instant, a nameless, venomous emotion coiled like a serpent, whispering in Lu’s ear. Everyone could hate him, but if Zong Ming wore that expression, then Lu would have no choice but to make him a puppet—to prevent that look from ever appearing again.

But he did not want to make Zong Ming a puppet.

…Why were the emissaries of the Temple of Light always so detestable?

“The Abyssal Demon God is indeed terrifying,” Zong Ming said calmly, “but without a vessel, it cannot remain in the human world.”

His voice reached Lu, whose tense body slowly relaxed as hands reached out and cradled the young elf in an embrace. The man’s voice whispered steadily near his ear, “I hope the emissaries find the demon’s vessel soon; a rogue Abyssal Demon God wandering the empire is truly frightening.”

Kyle and An paused.

After a moment, the girl said, “But what if the demon’s vessel is right here among us?”

“How would I know what to do?” Zong Ming looked slightly exasperated. “Isn’t that your temple’s concern?”

Kyle was speechless.

An said, “I sensed the Abyss’s aura on the elf.”

Zong Ming’s gaze landed on the young elf and said, “Of course he has an Abyssal aura. He was seriously injured recently due to a potion mishap, which is why he looks like this.”

“Ah, you don’t actually think the demon possessed him or that he drew a summoning array, do you?”

“First of all, look at him—what demon would want him? And he’s always been by my side, bearing the binding mark left by my father.” Zong Ming produced a small bell, shaking it gently. The binding mark, left by the prime minister, appeared clearly on Lu’s body. “What demon would willingly possess this body, a puppet bound by legends, at the mercy of others?”

An and Kyle stared at the mark, lost in thought. To some extent, Zong Ming was right—the demon could only manifest through an avatar. Possessing the elf’s body would be akin to walking into a trap.

But…

“The elf remains an unstable factor. Lord Zong Ming, we should take him to the Temple of Light…”

“Bold!” The golden gaze fell heavily upon them, a quiet rebuke. The Sword Saint’s pressure forced Kyle and An to bow their heads, unable to meet his eyes. Yet perhaps considering their status, the stern lord lifted his face again, expression icy.

“How I handle things is none of your concern,” Zong Ming said. “I have pressing matters. This manor is not open to guests. You may leave.”

An opened her mouth, apparently wanting to say more, but Kyle shook his head and respectfully addressed Zong Ming, “Sword Saint, we will take our leave.”

The girl glanced at her mentor, then reluctantly departed. Before leaving, An looked back, still puzzled, gazing at the man holding the young elf.

“But the Abyssal offspring bring disaster to others. Lord Zong Ming, are you not afraid?”

Zong Ming’s eyes met hers. After a moment, he lowered his gaze.

“He has never harmed me,” he said. “Why should I fear?”

An appeared even more confused. Kyle grasped her hand, and together they disappeared into the distance at the edge of the manor.