9 Ruthless Older Year Attacks and Fiercely Reforms the Elf Cub

Zong Ming instinctively did not want to associate these events with the elf.

This was not a matter of doubting Lu; even though Zong Ming had vaguely sensed something off about the male lead through the minutiae—the trivial details, the elf’s attitude, and his daily conduct—he remained silent, much like a doting parent. Whenever others asked, he would instinctively defend Lu before any suspicion could even fully take root.

It was as if he bore a sense of responsibility that compelled him to keep the elf under his wing. There was nothing wrong with that; he was the author of this book, and Lu was the protagonist of this world, as well as his favorite—and only—favored child.

Moreover, even though Lu’s attitude had been wretched at the beginning, as time passed and they spent their days together, Lu had visibly softened. Like a snarling wolf that had gradually been tamed by him, he transformed from a violent, cold beast into a gentle and calm elf. He revealed his truly mild side, and even the tone of his speech became harmonious; though he would still prick him from time to time, he had lost his initial sharpness and aggression.

This process of gradually washing away the grime on the other, letting him bloom with his true radiance, and feeling the icy mountain melt into warm water satisfied Zong Ming’s desire for control and his sense of responsibility. Every time he defended the elf, he would find the other watching him in silence, looking as if he had never been treated that way before. Zong Ming even felt a sense of amusement from the bottom of his heart, but that was soon followed by a touch of sorrow and guilt, emotions that fermented into an even heavier sense of responsibility.

Perhaps the elf could not fully understand, and others could not understand either, but Zong Ming did not need their understanding: he simply did not want the elf to suffer through everything he had once endured; he simply wanted to be good to him.

Therefore, when an imperceptible fluctuation of magic emanated from the elf’s residence, causing Zong Ming to wake from his dream in a start, his first reaction was the fear that something had happened to Lu. By the time he hurried to the elf’s room, his mind was already flooded with worried thoughts.

Then, when Zong Ming opened the door and gazed at the pitch-black smoke pouring out, along with the indescribable aura of the abyss emerging from within, his first instinct was to nearly draw his blade and strike down the terrifying, ghastly, malevolent thing before him.

"Where did this... abyssal monster come from? Taste my blade!"

In the room where all other elements had been compressed and squeezed out by the darkness, the blue-haired man’s golden eyes opened like those of a dragon. Deep within the darkness, something seemed to be locking gazes with him. It was unimaginable how massive that existence was; it felt as if the entire world before it was merely a piece on a chessboard, manipulated at will.

A pressure that made teeth chatter and limbs go weak flashed by. Zong Ming felt his own existence to be so insignificant, yet he stepped forward unswervingly. The fear in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by other emotions.

"Lu, where are you?"

"Are you all right?"

The man’s voice fell into the darkness like a pebble tossed into a pond, sending ripples across the surface. The care and tension in his voice were clearly visible, impossible to hide, and even more impossible to feign.

In the next second, the pressure coming from the darkness slowly dissipated. Only then did Zong Ming feel a chill down his back; it was the cold sweat on his body soaking his clothes. The man pursed his lips, hearing a sound from ahead. The long blade in his hand was ready to be raised, the power of a Sword Saint gathering.

Then, he heard a thin, sharp sound by his ear, like the low growl of some small animal, yet also like the pleasant chime of a musical instrument.

A creature with a lower body covered in tentacles and a semi-transparent exterior rolled out from the darkness. Its head slowly split open, and the eyeballs and teeth that flashed between the gaps rolled about, emitting a mesmerizing sound capable of causing anyone who met its gaze to lose their sanity and turn their brain into mush in the next second.

The next second, its body closed up, its hideous side completely concealed. It stared intently at the man before it, coiling its body like a predator spotting prey, and lunged at him. But Zong Ming subconsciously kicked out, and the mass of things flew backward, slamming against the wall with a *thwack*.

"Ugh..."

It was a bit pitiful.

The little thing pushed itself up with its tentacles, steadied its head against the wall, dizzy and disoriented, and let out a soft whimper.

The darkness in the room finally dispersed, revealing the form of the monster. Zong Ming looked closely and discovered:

It was a tiny, tiny, tiny... elf cub.

Zong Ming: "..."

Why would an elf cub grow up to look like this, and why could he recognize it at a glance? Because he was the one who had written it, word by word, that this was exactly what it was.

No one could be clearer than he about what this creature before him was.

Holding his blade, ready to fight to the death, Zong Ming slowly lowered his hand, almost throwing out his back.

He watched the elf cub before him and fell into silence. The other also raised its face to look at him, seemingly feeling quite aggrieved. The tentacles beneath it made a squirming sound, hesitating and not daring to approach. Zong Ming almost began to feel a sense of guilt. Just then, exclamations from the servants came from outside, along with the butler’s cautious inquiry: "Master Zong Ming, what happened?"

"...It’s nothing," Zong Ming said, though he didn't know what had happened, he still instinctively covered for Lu: "There was an accident while I was crafting a potion... the alchemy apparatus exploded. Do not come in for now."

"So that is the case." The butler’s tense mood instantly settled. They did not doubt Zong Ming’s words; after all, such things had happened frequently during this period. Even for a Sword Saint, mastering alchemy was not a simple matter, and the leakage of magic power could lead to some accidents. The butler asked, "Do you need the servants to clean up?"

"No, you will just get in the way," Zong Ming said. The butler, knowing that he did not want anyone to see such an embarrassing scene, ordered the others to withdraw. The area was left with only Zong Ming and Lu.

Inside the room, the aura of the abyss finally dissipated slowly, and the other elements returned to their rightful places like stray cats huddled in a corner, scrambling to return. Fire and light combined to finally illuminate the room, though a patch of black that had not yet fully dissipated still lingered in the corner—not a mere shadow, but the power of the abyss from a higher plane.

The elf cub let out a thin, trembling sound. Only after Zong Ming had dismissed the others did he observe the existence before him as if waking from a fright. In that instant, he truly saw what the thing before him was:

Its body was slender and lithe, and because the surrounding elements dared not approach, the faint, cold, silver light was emitted by the cub itself. Its lower body was a tangle of intertwined appendages, knotted like the roots of a tree yet swirling like the tentacles of a jellyfish. Those dense, fine tentacles moved flexibly, as if the darkness were an extension of itself. A glimmer of light flashed across its torso, yet its semi-transparent body seemed to concentrate the purest darkness—noble, exquisite, and yet hideous and terrifying.

At first glance, this creature was beautiful, yet beautiful in a way that made one's skin crawl. Several smaller appendages on its slender torso were particularly conspicuous; its head was long and narrow, its beautiful green eyes like gems, and long ribbons extended from its head, resembling both hair and a crown.

Fine cracks appeared on its skin from time to time, as if something might burst out from within at any moment; the texture was like fluid, yet also like flesh and blood.

It let out a thin, trembling sound.

Tiny, sharp, with root-like tentacles entwined, a viscous sound flashed by. Zong Ming stared blankly at the scene before him. After a long, long time, he seemed to realize what the thing before him was and said tentatively: "...Lu?"

The monster let out a thin, responsive sound.

"How, how did you turn into this look?" Zong Ming was caught between laughter and tears. The aura the other emitted still made him feel very afraid—as if it were a spontaneous bodily reaction, the fear and spasms of a herbivore facing a top predator, even though what was before him was just a cub.

But this was the protagonist. Zong Ming forced himself to calm down. He lowered his body to look at him and said: "About just now, I’m sorry."

"Does it hurt?" Zong Ming opened his arms, signaling him to come over: "What is going on with you looking like this?"

In the cold, damp room, only the man before him radiated warmth, like an intruder who had broken into a nest, or perhaps an oblivious prey.

He himself didn't seem to notice how tense his voice was, yet he was still concerned for the one before him first, reaching out his hand.

The elf’s eyes flickered. In the next second, his coiled body began to glide slowly, and after a turn in the air, he landed in Zong Ming’s arms. The heavy texture, carrying the chill of a cold pool, landed on his skin. Only then did Zong Ming realize that his own clothes were thin, and when the tentacles on the elf cub landed on his exposed skin, they brought a fine, itching sensation.

It was as if he were being licked and gnawed upon, a dense and sharp sensation flashing by.

The thing in his arms was soft and heavy. Zong Ming was stunned for a long time before he realized that the thing in his arms was the male lead. Why had he suddenly turned into this shape?

What was this?

An adult male lead turning back to his childhood, transformed into an elf cub?

As for why an elf cub would look like this... Zong Ming fell silent. All elves were born from the Tree of Life. When they were first born, they were certainly not in human form; they had their own childhood stages.

Elf cubs at that time would grow into adulthood after passing through a longer or shorter childhood. Their appearance was naturally beautiful and exquisite, but with the invasion of the abyss, this originally beautiful and delicate race began to undergo irreversible changes from the roots up. Even if adult elves chose to construct a beautiful face, their true forms and their appearances as cubs... had become quite arbitrary.

It was just like the fish in the deep sea.

You cannot expect monsters living in the abyss... to possess human aesthetics.

And so, they grew taller and taller, their bodies becoming more and more massive. Despite how beautiful their exterior might be, their true forms were like monsters of the abyss, growing however they pleased.

And the male lead’s true form was already considered the most perfect among them.

Zong Ming’s gaze fell onto the cub in his arms, and he discovered that the tentacles on the other's lower body were extending along their touching skin like a spider web. Zong Ming felt as if he were a captured prey, feeling the majority of his chest wrapped by them. His shoulders were coiled with a viscous, soft sensation—fine and itchy, as if licking or simply touching. It was like a dangerous game. The monster in his arms made a thin sound, and the magic power within Zong Ming’s body surged. In the next second, those ribbons curled up as if startled. Zong Ming reached out a finger and touched the other’s thin tentacles.

"Stop acting up." Zong Ming’s voice was low and magnetic. He was a very masculine man, and every move he made carried an air of unquestionable authority, yet he was completely unaware that after his skin was wrapped by the tentacles, fine red marks were blooming as if he had been whipped.

It was as if he were being abused; his skin felt itchy.

Zong Ming took a look, but did not take it seriously.

Or rather, he did not care about these small matters: he was too confident.

He was confident that the elf, who was merely an alchemist, could not possibly pose any threat to him.

Zong Ming was thinking about the reason why the male lead had turned into this state.

"Can you understand what I’m saying?" Zong Ming lowered his head and said. The monster in his arms, however, just stared at him with green eyes, the gem-like eyes beautiful and round, revealing no emotion. Zong Ming looked at him and said again: "Did that kick just now hurt?"

"I didn't mean to—ah!" Zong Ming’s finger paused because the elf cub suddenly opened its mouth and bit him. Caught off guard, a hideous tooth mark appeared on his finger, but it seemed as if the cub were merely tasting him, or perhaps taking revenge. Zong Ming was rendered speechless. He lowered his head and saw the other extend a thin tongue to lick the wound. The man opened his mouth but didn't say much more; it seemed it really did hurt.

Even in his own writing, the male lead had only twice briefly turned into this state: the first time was in a desperate situation where he had lost his power and had nothing, forced to take on this weak posture; the second time was during his evolutionary transformation, when he briefly returned to his original form to absorb the power of a magical potion.

However, the male lead detested his own weak appearance, so he had only maintained it for less than two days in his severely wounded state before recovering his human form. Zong Ming still remembered that when the elf cub's image first appeared, the readers' reactions were all of heartache, pity, and a few who disliked seeing the male lead so weak and wanted him to take revenge quickly. But by the time the elf cub appeared for the second time, the comments had already become:

"Why is the cannibalistic demon acting cute?" "Don't do this, brother, you just ate half of the dragon race." "Is this guy going to keep eating? Half the continent is about to be refined by him." "This must be the author’s twisted sense of humor, why would drinking a potion turn him into a cub form?" "+1 to the person above." "+10086."

Thinking of the comments from when he was writing the story, Zong Ming couldn't help but want to laugh. From the shift in the male lead’s reputation, one could already see how insane the other had become in the later stages. But at the same time, because of his attitude that "everything can be refined into a potion," everyone in the later chapters was studying which race tasted best...

As he laughed, Zong Ming’s smile faded.

He lowered his head and looked at the male lead in his arms.

The other had been gazing at him greedily, without blinking, since just now.

It was as if he were looking at a walking bottle of potion, a prey within easy reach.

Zong Ming fell silent.

So, was the current male lead in this original form because of a severe injury, or because... he had completed his transformation and advanced into a... Saint of Magic?