I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.

The carriage was not exactly spacious, but it was just enough to accommodate two adult men. With the elf's unusually large frame stuffed inside, the room—which usually felt roomy—suddenly felt suffocatingly cramped. The magical beasts outside were trembling violently with fear, and the two inside swayed along with the movement; though they remained seated, their bodies inevitably rocked.

Lü reached out and pulled the person who had collided with him into his arms. Zong Ming sat on his lap, helpless. Their builds were complementary; this lithe frame with broad shoulders and a narrow waist tumbled into the elf’s embrace, fitting together as if they were made for each other.

The atmosphere in the carriage was strange.

Beneath the seemingly intimate scene, a chilling intent to kill spread silently, freezing the space around them.

As the carriage jolted, the elf’s hand rested lightly on Zong Ming’s neck. Though his fingers were long, fair, and as beautiful as a work of art, they seemed capable of snapping a person's neck with ease. A sliver of coldness crawled from Zong Ming’s neck down to his chest. What panicked him wasn't their current predicament, but the realization of the protagonist’s murderous intent toward him.

It was palpable—it seemed that as soon as an opportunity arose, he would be strangled to death.

Was there anything more horrifying than having a "Dragon Overlord" who wanted to kill you sitting right next to you, ready to strike at any moment? Heh.

Zong Ming struggled, forcibly pulling their nearly seamless bodies apart. The elf clearly noticed this and tightened his grip. The next second, the carriage jolted, and Zong Ming slammed back into the man’s arms. Both of them froze for a moment.

Zong Ming: "Let go."

Do you know, protagonist, that our current position looks exactly like, well, some kind of disharmonious act? But Zong Ming knew this guy was a hundred-percent straight Dragon Overlord who would go on to have a massive harem with countless confidantes, so he had no other thoughts, even finding the mental energy to complain internally.

*Protagonist, I know you hate the Prime Minister who ruined you, and I know you're in a bad mood and want to destroy the world, but your magic is sealed and you can't fight back! I'm here to save you, not to harm you!*

Zong Ming paused and added, "I'm not here to hurt you. I need your abilities."

The elf behind him said nothing, lost in his own thoughts.

The carriage bumped along the road, the magical beasts nearly frantic enough to bolt. Zong Ming, sitting on the elf’s lap, felt the atmosphere becoming increasingly bizarre. He gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, but for some reason, the protagonist reflexively reached out and pulled him back.

Zong Ming sat back down with a thud, and the next second, he nearly sprang up. The man’s face stiffened, and he barked like a bristling hedgehog: "Stop!"

The coachman pulled on the reins, and the startled beasts came to a reluctant halt. They had arrived at Zong Ming’s estate. A bell appeared in Zong Ming’s hand, and as he shook it, the hands that had been on him instantly recoiled uncontrollably. Zong Ming turned his head and shot the protagonist a fierce glare. The elf happened to be squinting at him, his eyes deep and filled with a fleeting sense of... confusion.

After staring at each other for a while, the elf finally said, "You saved me; I will help you."

He smiled faintly, his grim face looking surprisingly gentle, as if the earlier murderous intent had never existed. "What do you need me to do?"

Zong Ming looked at him, still shaken. The elf’s gaze fell upon him, faint yet seemingly trying to see through his very soul. He couldn't grasp what had just happened, because while in the carriage, when Zong Ming was sitting on the man's lap, he had suddenly realized...

He was hard.

This realization sent Zong Ming into a panic. He would have preferred a dagger pressed against his back. The protagonist was also clearly caught off guard, and both of them grew flustered.

Zong Ming opened his mouth, but found the elf had lowered his eyes, no longer looking at him. The atmosphere turned unexpectedly awkward.

Zong Ming looked at the protagonist, his eyes filled with bewilderment, doubt, and deep confusion.

*How could you get hard?*

*Why would you get hard?*

*You are a Dragon Overlord with countless beauties waiting for you. How could you get hard in a carriage, against your enemy, a mere cannon-fodder (male)?*

Zong Ming felt pained and disappointed.

In truth, Lü was also feeling a sliver of confusion.

Just a moment ago, he had truly wanted to kill the person before him—his murderous intent had never been concealed, especially after returning to that cage, that dark and narrow cell, and reliving everything the Prime Minister had done to him.

No matter the time, this father-son pair should be his enemies. Even if Zong Ming’s behavior seemed strange, Lü should have had his legs broken by Esther—because his hands were needed for brewing potions, so they only dared to break his legs—before being thrown back into the cage to live in darkness until rescued by someone else.

Lü could no longer remember how he had spent that time in his memories; he only remembered slaughtering his enemies with his own hands afterward and brewing them into a potion to drink. That should have been immensely satisfying—watching his arch-nemesis wail at his feet. Yet, having suddenly returned to the past, Lü found that things had changed.

He had been bored, even finding it all meaningless.

Everything he had experienced in the past now seemed trivial in his eyes.

He even wanted to end it all early, feeling no interest even in provoking Mela and Esther.

Then, this fellow had suddenly appeared and rescued him.

The elf looked at the other with strange eyes. His memory was excellent; he wouldn't mistake his original enemy, but as far as he knew, the Prime Minister’s son... should have had purple hair.

The man before him with blue hair had done only one thing: he had saved him.

Lü didn't know what he was planning, nor why he did it, but this experience, different from the past, finally piqued his interest. Along the way, the man thought coldly... since this fellow had delivered himself to his doorstep, he might as well kill him now and extract the elements he needed.

The magic contained within this "enemy" was more abundant and active than before.

The elf looked at him with the eyes of someone appraising a potion: since he wanted a secret elixir so badly, wouldn't participating in the brewing process fulfill his wish?

He had at least a dozen ways to make this guy die silently, even with his magic sealed and his body severely wounded.

But Zong Ming was completely unguarded before him, and even...

The elf closed his eyes, recalling what had just happened.

A warm, lithe body, covered in thin muscle, had rolled into his arms, perfectly fitting him. When the elf noticed this, he realized how much Zong Ming’s body suited his preferences. If another elf had been here and encountered such a compatible partner, they would have wanted to crush them into their own bones to cherish them. But this person was his enemy, and Lü was cold-hearted.

He had reached out to touch the other's neck, almost ready to snap it the next second.

His hand had circled that waist, narrow enough to be snapped with a little pressure.

Staring at those eyes that had flashed with surprise, Lü looked at those golden irises, not even realizing he was admiring them. Holding this person who was so perfectly formed, feeling the weight on his lap, he suddenly thought:

His blue hair could be cut off as a collectible; his bones could be extracted and made into ornaments; his flesh and soul were materials for potions, and those beautiful, clear golden eyes could be gouged out to be set as gemstones.

The elf’s arms tightened, and a sense of pleasure rose from the depths of his heart. The body in his arms seemed to possess some kind of magic, making him impatient to destroy it. This brief fantasy gave Lü—who had been uninterested from the start—a sense of reality. Yet the prey in his arms struggled, and the elf reached out to pin him down, wanting to break his limbs.

The next second, Zong Ming stumbled, trying to escape, and Lü reached out to pull him back; he tried again, and the elf reached out again.

The child of his enemy, his original nemesis, sat on his lap, his body trembling. He twisted his body in confusion and bewilderment. Lü’s mind was still filled with bloody, violent thoughts. The collision of his fantasies and reality caused the elf to suddenly, uncontrollably, get hard.

Lü: ...

It wasn't just Zong Ming; even Lü himself had been startled.

In his annoyance, Zong Ming shook the bell in his hand, glaring at him while ordering the elf to get out of the carriage. The coachman outside watched in shock and panic as the eldest young master stepped down, expressionless, followed by a prisoner.

Zong Ming’s clothes were disheveled, and he was annoyed by the recent events. Lü walked behind him, looking at him with a gaze that was calm yet filled with something strange, his eyes flickering over the bell in Zong Ming’s hand.

His current situation was truly like that of a dog controlled by the other party’s bell. Whenever Zong Ming rang it, he had to be manipulated by him.

But the elf found that he wasn't angry.

He could see that the person before him was like a bristling cat, stressed out and even more uncomfortable than he was.

Seeming to notice the elf’s gaze, Zong Ming stiffened. He turned back to look at the person behind him, put away the bell, and after holding back for a long time, said, "Follow me!"

For some reason, Zong Ming felt that the protagonist behind him was in a strangely good mood. But what had just happened was so embarrassing that Zong Ming could only attribute the man’s current mood to the joy of being rescued; otherwise, he truly couldn't explain how the protagonist could get hard over a (male) cannon-fodder.

So awkward.

As they walked, Zong Ming suddenly recalled the traits of the elf race:

This race, which lived in the forests and possessed perfect, beautiful faces, had initially been synonymous with cold, aloof, and noble temperaments.

They lived in seclusion in the Great Forest and the whole clan worshipped the Tree of Life. Elves could only conceive new life through the Tree of Life. They would still choose partners, but they were not limited by race, often choosing to bond with beings of other races, and they would only seek one partner in their entire lifetime.

If the one they loved died, the elves would never seek another. This concept was almost bordering on stubborn obsession; they would not allow and could not accept the betrayal of a partner, and they would not seek anyone else themselves.

It was from such a race that this massive Dragon Overlord protagonist emerged, opening a harem and having confidantes everywhere. The only reason for this was: the elf race had been corrupted by the Abyss.

They became violent, crazy, and their bodies and minds were eroded by the Abyss, becoming bloodthirsty, insane, and uncontrollably lustful. A portion of the elves had been corrupted first, and then the whole race was eroded by the Abyss.

Because of their physical distortion, they became greedy and lustful; but because of their mental stubbornness, they could not accept betrayal. That was why, in the beginning, corrupted elves who had fallen into madness would end up literally killing their partners through excessive sex.

The more they resonated with the Abyss, the stronger their desires became. As the last of the elf race, the protagonist’s body had been completely assimilated by the Abyss.

Thus, his body would occasionally lose control, becoming violent and twisted, requiring him to constantly take potions to suppress his desires—until it finally erupted into an uncontrollable degree.

And then the protagonist started his harem.

Zong Ming couldn't help but look back at the protagonist. To call him a traitor to the elf race wasn't quite right, because he was just venting his desires, not regarding those people as his partners. Hearing it that way, the protagonist sounded a bit like a scumbag...

Thinking of what had just happened, Zong Ming finally found the reason: the protagonist was just pent-up, had no potions, and his magic was sealed, which was why he was, um, so excited in the carriage.

Zong Ming thought it over and finally found the cause: the protagonist just needed a bottle of potion.

And he, coincidentally, needed the protagonist to brew that potion.

Zong Ming stopped in his tracks and led him into the house. In the hallway, the protagonist’s gaze remained fixed on his back. Zong Ming turned around and met a pair of scarlet eyes.

The protagonist was filthy. Only now, standing before him, did Zong Ming realize that his long silver hair was covered in dirt, and his robe had long since been stained gray and black. Seeing the elf—who was originally a clean, neat person with a bit of a germaphobic streak—reduced to this state, and linking it to everything that had happened in the story, Zong Ming’s heart softened.

Before being captured by the Prime Minister, the protagonist had suffered many injuries and endured much torture.

That was why he felt grateful after being rescued and wanted to repay the person—only to be met with betrayal.

Zong Ming would never treat him like that. He thought that perhaps the reason he had come here was to let the protagonist experience love and peace.

Zong Ming suddenly felt a strong sense of responsibility. The tension from the carriage and the frustration he had been holding in suddenly dissipated. He felt ambitious; he was going to save his "son," and then give him lots and lots of love and care.

Even if the protagonist was still looking at him intensely.

Even if the protagonist still looked like he wanted to snap his neck.

Even if the protagonist had gotten hard because of him.

But none of that was a problem!

Zong Ming looked at the person before him and suddenly walked up. Lü squinted slightly, watching this son of his enemy, who was different from before, walk over with heavy determination in his eyes.

Then, Zong Ming grabbed his hand.

The elf stepped back.

Zong Ming stepped forward.

The protagonist retreated.

Zong Ming followed.

He retreated, he followed.

Zong Ming finally grasped the protagonist’s hand. The elf’s eyelids twitched. Even if he didn't intend to kill him for the moment, he absolutely could not tolerate this person touching him. Just as the protagonist was about to shake off that hand, he heard Zong Ming say in a sincere tone:

"Don't worry, I will definitely save you."

Protagonist: ?

"I won't let anyone hurt you, and I won't let you be locked in a cage again," Zong Ming said. "Believe me, I will never abandon you."

"I will protect you." As Zong Ming spoke, he even became a bit emotional. Lü had no idea what he was doing, but he noticed that after the other finished speaking, he looked at him with earnest eyes. The silver-haired elf was silent for a long time before finally opening his mouth under Zong Ming’s gaze and tentatively saying: "...Thank you?"

Zong Ming’s eyes lit up.

The protagonist didn't seem to be resisting him as much anymore. This was an epic improvement! As long as he worked hard, the protagonist definitely wouldn't want to kill him anymore, right!

His decision was correct. Zong Ming felt happy, while Lü slowly squinted his eyes and pulled his hand away.

He looked at the person in front of him and fell silent.

This person who had once humiliated him, cursed him, and believed that the elf race were the mortal enemies of humanity.

What on earth was he talking about?