6. The Envoy

The elf remained in Zongming's manor. Even though others felt fear and repulsion at his presence, Zongming’s command was absolute, and they dared not disturb his amusement. Moreover, the existence of elves had vanished centuries ago; the people of today knew nothing of what had truly transpired, relying only on hearsay—that elves were connected to the Abyss, that they had once nearly ruled the entire continent, and that most of the elven race were violent and insane.

An author’s note: He can attest that these rumors are all true.

The servants were terrified, barely daring to approach Lu. Yet, Lu found this perfectly fine; he disliked being disturbed most of all and detested the proximity of others even more. It was only after Zongming reprimanded the troublemaking servants and banished the ringleader from the manor that the escalating rumors finally ceased. Zongming simply had Lu live by his side, with a simple excuse: "You likely need to research potions daily, so to prevent the accumulation of magical energy from affecting the lives of others, you shall live near me."

Upon hearing this, the silver-haired elf seemed to raise his head to glance at the man. He parted his lips but said nothing, merely giving a soft nod of agreement.

For some reason, Zongming felt inexplicably confused. He had clearly saved the protagonist, doing everything the original supporting female character had done for the male lead—yes, in the original work, Lu would later be saved by the Saintess, embarking on a joyful journey to explore elven ruins with his confidante. Having been rescued from a cage by the Saintess Yana, Lu was deeply grateful, serving her tirelessly by brewing all her potions and viewing her as a beam of light in the darkness—though this light would later stab him in the back, their relationship had been intimate, with a faint sense of being soulmates.

But when that person was replaced by Zongming:

Zongming: Rescues the protagonist from a cage.
Lu: "Oh."
Zongming: "You teach me alchemy."
Lu: "I do not believe I can instruct you in any knowledge."
Zongming: Gives the male lead loving care and concern.
Lu: "Mm."
Lu: "Thank you."
Zongming: "Do you have any dissatisfaction with me?"

The elf looked up at him with an inscrutable expression. After a moment, Lu lowered his eyes: "No."

Zongming had a hundred things he wanted to pour out, but the elf’s attitude remained like an eternal iceberg. No matter how Zongming approached him, the man remained cold and distant. He was deeply, deeply perplexed. He had clearly done even better than Yana in the original, practically treating the man like a deity, yet the elf’s attitude was abnormally cold. Meanwhile, Yana had merely saved the protagonist and exploited him as a potion maker, yet he had remained devoted. What exactly was the problem?

Could it be... the difference in gender?

Zongming’s gaze drifted from the elf toward the distance, and he suddenly felt enlightened. In the heart of a "Dragon Overlord" protagonist, women were undoubtedly more important, while other men could only become his henchmen, disposable tools, mentors, or best friends. And could a "brother's" treatment be the same as a heroine's? Of course not. A supporting female character who redeems the protagonist becomes his wife. A cannon-fodder character who redeems the protagonist becomes his brother.

Furthermore, Zongming suddenly recalled that his own father was the primary culprit who brought Lu to the Starry Glory Empire. A group of men had stormed into the Foggy Forest, beaten the protagonist, and locked him in a dog cage, and now, the villain's son had rescued him. Unless the protagonist suffered from Stockholm Syndrome, it was impossible for him to have any affection for a "lifesaver" under these circumstances.

Zongming finally realized the truth. But he had no solution for this situation. He could only choose to keep being good to the elf, as if he were raising a... rather tall son, and find a way to keep the male lead away from everything that was to come. Even if the protagonist remained lukewarm toward him, Zongming still wanted to be good to him. He just wanted to do it, without a reason, and needing no reason.

After all, who else but him had written this protagonist? Lu was always different to him. Seeing the protagonist happy brought Zongming a sense of satisfaction, almost like looking at his former self. He hoped the protagonist could fulfill his wishes, watching him grow stronger until he became the supreme god of the world. Just thinking of that scene filled Zongming with a sense of fulfillment.

Of course, the most urgent thing now... was to work hard on building the protagonist's favorability. After all, the prerequisite for fulfilling his dreams was surviving until the finale.

Zongming retrieved a secret medicine from his treasury. Just as the blue-haired man placed the rare dragon blood on his table, a knock sounded at the door. The butler appeared, his voice grave: "Something has happened, my Lord."

A servant had passed Lu’s room and discovered him brewing a Dark Potion. Terrified, the servant reported it to the butler, who immediately suppressed the elf and came to find Zongming.

Zongming was nearly startled. Although the protagonist had spent years in the elven ruins and memorized the secret texts within, Dark Potions were high-level concoctions only an Awakened could brew. The current protagonist was merely an alchemist with four Stigmata, and he still carried the restrictions left by the Prime Minister. Even if the protagonist suddenly had a power spike, it was impossible for him to leap across so many tiers to brew a Dark Potion.

When the blue-haired man entered the room, the silver-haired elf was trapped in the center. A hideous expression made the others fearful; his alchemy ingredients were scattered in a chaotic mess. The servants and the butler stood on high alert, while Lu looked at him calmly.

A crisp sound seemed to ring in Zongming’s ears.
[Ding~ The "Dragon Overlord bullied by vicious cannon fodder" plot has been triggered. Hatred points are accumulating. Please ensure your personal safety~]

Zongming looked at Lu’s chilling gaze and felt as if an arrow had been shot at him from behind. All the favorability he had painstakingly built over the past few days seemed to be teetering on the edge.
[Protagonist’s favorability toward you -1. Your HP -300.]

Zongming was furious. His golden eyes swept around the room, and no one dared to meet his gaze. Only one person looked up, carefully observing his expression. Lu’s green eyes opened just as a servant stepped forward: "I felt the aura of darkness coming from the room."

The servant bowed his head, trembling before Zongming, presenting a half-finished potion. Within it, a disturbing aura swirled, as if darkness were settling inside: "I opened the door and saw him... he was making this potion!"

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes fell upon the elf. The silver-haired elf merely lowered his eyes and said, "This is my property." The man said, "You should not have broken into my room." His attitude was cold and calm, yet it seemed to enrage the others: "What are you doing, acting so sneakily? If we hadn't discovered it in time, this potion could have harmed us all."

Standing there, looking at the indignant servants and the protagonist in the center, Zongming suddenly found the scene very familiar. Wasn't this the scene from the original work where the protagonist was slandered while in the supporting female character's party? Back then, the elf had been in the party but was ostracized; they loathed him, accused him, and viewed him as an evil spirit, believing the potions he made were filthy. And back then, no one stood by the protagonist's side—not even Yana, who only believed him after he explained.

And what did they say back then?
"Why do you think he is making a Dark Potion?"
The blue-haired man walked to the table and looked at the materials. He had already determined what Lu was trying to do. He looked at the elf and found the elf was also looking at him. Zongming curled his lips and tilted his chin slightly: "I believe him."

The servant looked incredulous, and even Lu narrowed his eyes slightly. The servant reflexively retorted: "But he is of the elven race."
"Isn't the potion he is making exactly a product of the Abyss?"

Zongming rubbed his face, looking at this familiar scene, and suddenly felt very annoyed. He must have been out of his mind to have written this. The man turned around and looked at the servant: "Kneel."

Someone immediately tried to step forward to restrain the elf, but Zongming turned his face sharply. In the next second, the servant was forced to his knees by a surge of pressure, his body trembling. Zongming looked down at him: "Idiot."

"I believe in the potion he is making, and I believe he would not do such things." Zongming sat in a chair, propping his chin with one hand, ignoring the astonished gazes around him: "Because I can recognize what he is doing."

Zongming said: "I have studied alchemy. I know, Elf, you are trying to make a Stigmata Potion, right?" He looked at Lu, his face wearing a triumphant expression—this was the potion formula he had stayed up all night to memorize: "Before adding the Levitation Grass and stirring, the Stigmata Potion will take on an unstable state, which makes it look like a Dark Potion..."

The elf’s eyes flickered. After a moment, he sighed: "The Stigmata Potion requires the addition of shredded Light Grass."
Zongming: "."
Zongming: "You remembered it wrong."
Lu: "After adding the Light Grass, it requires distillation and purification, not stirring..."

The knowledge he had painstakingly learned last night flowed through Zongming’s mind like a sieve. He gritted his teeth and gripped the armrest: "You remembered it wrong."

Lu’s green eyes watched him and suddenly stopped arguing. The man nodded: "Mm, I remembered it wrong. Next time, you can stir it with Levitation Grass."

"Enough, shut up!" Zongming was getting angry. He was here to help the male lead, yet this guy was still tearing down his efforts! It was excessive! Absurd! Zongming thought he would lock him back in the cage later. He glared at the male lead several times before continuing: "The elf is just refining a secret medicine. What did I say before?"

He looked at the servants, seeing them tremble: "No one is allowed to disturb the alchemist at work..."
"I went through so much trouble to bring back an elf as a mentor, and you keep bothering him." Zongming said coldly. The servants were speechless. Zongming continued: "Besides, under my nose, what did you expect would happen?"

Indeed, the elf was just an alchemist, while Zongming... was a Sword Saint.

The servant bowed his head, a trace of stubbornness on his face: "But, he is an elf."
"I don't care what you are thinking." Zongming’s voice came, the blue-haired man sitting in his chair, his hand resting against his cheek, his golden eyes like those of a dragon, naturally inspiring fear: "But I don't like disobedient idiots."

"If the elf is evil, then am I, who keeps him by my side, also the embodiment of evil?" Zongming leaned forward to ask: "If this continues to spread, is my father also the embodiment of evil?"

Everyone fell silent. The best way was to chase the elf away—even the butler thought so—but Zongming did not appreciate it. He said: "I don't want to see this happen again, Rena."

The butler stepped forward. Zongming squinted at him, the pressure of a Sword Saint radiating: "If you cannot control their mouths, then I will have to deal with you."

Rena lowered his head and agreed in a low voice. Zongming’s attitude was exceptionally firm: he didn't care what happened later, nor what they were thinking. If any more baseless rumors spread, he would take it out on the butler.

The servants bowed their heads, having realized one thing: under a Sword Saint like Zongming, if even a mere alchemist could cause trouble, then what was Zongming? Their eyes twitched, the butler was covered in cold sweat. Zongming let out a cold snort: "Get out."

His attitude was extremely overbearing and cold. In reality, Zongming wasn't truly angry; after all, being harassed by cannon fodder was a necessary rite of passage for every Dragon Overlord. Even if a Dragon Overlord had become a Saint/Legend/Demigod, it was possible for the protagonist to be harassed by an ignorant Demigod while walking down the street. Such was the law of the world.

After everyone left, Zongming turned to look at Lu. He had defended the Dragon Overlord this time. In the original work, the protagonist had been slandered and ostracized constantly, so surely he must be happy to be defended today, right? Zongming looked over enthusiastically, and then saw a pair of green eyes.

He paused slightly. Because in those eyes—there was nothing.

They were empty, calm eyes, like a dead forest. They refused to reflect anything in the world; neither Zongming’s face nor the figures of others seemed able to enter those eyes. Even the protagonist himself did not seem to be a part of the world. He was ostracized by others, so he seemed to reject everything else as well.

Lu’s lips moved. After a moment, Zongming heard him say: "You said you believe me?"
The man curled his lips slightly and said softly: "If I really had brewed a dark potion and you hadn't noticed, wouldn't you be... a colossal idiot?"

Zongming stood up and walked toward the elf, looking down... but he couldn't look down. The other was too tall. Zongming was furious, wanting to chop the elf’s legs off and throw them away. He gestured for the elf to bow, but the man just looked down at him with no intention of accommodating him.

Arrogant and cold. Bad, very bad. Being good to him was useless, not being good to him meant death—it was unimaginably bad. The elf in the early stages of the original work had clearly been a very gentle person, gentle yet strong. It was precisely because of that gentleness that he seemed so cruel after his fall into darkness. If Zongming hadn't rescued him himself, he would have thought the current elf was already the blackened protagonist slaughtering everything in the continent just to brew dark potions.

"Who are you calling an idiot?" Zongming’s voice was low. He leaned in closer, and his body heat transferred over, causing the elf’s cool aura to change slightly—like a warm flame bumping into darkness, unable to burn it, but making the blackness fuzzy and chaotic.

"A mere alchemist, still thinking of doing things under my nose?" Zongming raised his face slightly, his handsome features highlighted by glowing golden eyes: "Beware of you? I just need to ring a bell, and you would have to kneel... and be locked in a cage by me."

Zongming stopped himself in time; it nearly turned into some kind of strange play. He didn't dare to truly humiliate the male lead; he was just talking tough. The blue-haired man was handsome, the arc of his profile exquisite, as if meticulously carved by a master craftsman. His skin was fair, and the way he curled his lips in a mocking smile was extremely reckless, wanton, and arrogant.

It was as if he were saying: What can you do now?

The elf gnashed his teeth. He was extremely tall, to the point that Zongming was a head shorter than him. The man seemed to care about this, always wanting him to bow his head. How could Lu bow his head here? And yet, for a moment, he really wanted to...

Bow his head, press down on his shoulders, and stroke that piece of fair neck. Then, bite down hard, pierce his throat, and drain the magical blood from his body. At that moment, this wanton guy in front of him could only be pinned down by him like captured prey. Blood would soak his hair, flow over those golden eyes, and stain them with a bloody hue.

That must have been beautiful.

The elf suddenly closed his eyes, the veins on his hands bulging for an instant. He frowned, thinking he should brew a potion. A potion strong enough to suppress his desires. An elf without a partner would always encounter such situations. He thought this was just a normal thing; he only needed to brew the potion, and he would no longer have such reactions, nor would he... want to do those things.

When he opened his eyes again, the blue-haired man had already left. After he left, the servants did not dare to enter the room again. The silver-haired elf suffered in the room for a long time before suppressing the turmoil in his body. He paced the room, and after a moment, from a dark corner unnoticed by anyone, a hideous monster crawled out.

A round object fell to the floor and rolled once. Dark tentacles writhed behind it. It flowed down from the ceiling, as if spreading throughout the room, extending to the end of the darkness.

The elf raised his face and looked at this "messenger" he had just condensed. The hideous eyeball stared at him, emitting a strange buzzing sound.

"Hiss..."
It was as if it were the seductive sound from the Abyss. Enough to make the brain rot and the soul deform.

"It is just a pity," the elf said word for word: "You are, indeed, an idiot."