In the Allblack dungeon, Exitus had never thought he would have the chance to return to this place. Looking at the familiar cells, the not-so-pleasant memories drifted through his mind like a blurry film. The slaves were quickly freed and became the logistics force of the Hesmor army. Couer and the wardens searched everywhere in the dungeon for the method of producing “Black Ash”; of course, the Elf slaves could not escape his eyes. This was Couer’s chance to survive if Voga’s forces failed. The sacks of corpses piled beside the body of the Cerberus, along with the scattered piles of pitch-black excrement on the ground, were not difficult for Couer to connect to the way “Black Ash” was produced.

  “They feed them these corpses to create ‘Black Ash’? It’s not that simple.”

  If it were only that, then the production process would be far too simple. Couer was not a benevolent man; he had tens of thousands of slaves and countless hidden holding camps scattered across Hesmor, and even in Greaton. He could easily mass-produce “Black Ash” if it only required human corpses. Naturally, these bodies carried some kind of secret he needed to pay attention to.

  Walking behind Couer, the High Elf girl seemed to have noticed something. She quietly knelt down and touched the corpses. As expected, what she sensed was helplessness, darkness, and despair.

  “They died in despair,” she thought. Suddenly, a feeling of fear made her shudder. In the distance, a boy with cold, steel-like eyes was staring straight at her, making her feel suffocated. “Does that boy want to kill me?”

  “She has realized something,” Exitus never wished for the secret to be exposed. “Black Ash” was a product far too cruel; a perfect ingredient was a miserable being tormented in nightmares and eventually dying in despair. To accomplish that, Allblack was designed as a hellish place, a place where a person died slowly, from the mind to the body. A place like this should never exist or appear again. Exitus suddenly had an insane thought; he did not know whether he should silence everyone here. Murderous intent flickered in his eyes; Exitus stood on the boundary of choice.

  Saphira was truly terrified. As the precious gem of the Elf royal family, the beloved younger sister of the magic genius Aeryn, Saphira had lived her whole life surrounded by reverence. She was far too familiar with flatterers, with those intoxicated by her beauty. Even when Couer captured her, the disgusting fat man did not dare to show any disrespect toward her, always serving and giving her the best treatment. But upon meeting Exitus’s gaze, she could be certain that if given the chance, the boy would kill her without the slightest mercy. Saphira suddenly blushed, a strange feeling threading its way into her mind.

  Outside the Allblack fortress, Terax’s forces quickly joined with Net’s army to surround the area. More than ten thousand regular Golden soldiers under Terax’s command and one thousand special GoldenFang troops led by Net. If based solely on troop numbers, the Hesmor army holding the fortress, with nearly twenty thousand soldiers, was still slightly superior. However, Terax’s troops were the main bloodline forces of Richer and were rigorously trained to guard his secrets at Allblack. Their combat strength was far greater than that of the regular troops recruited in the territories of other families.

  In the temporary encampment, Net and Terax discussed the battle plan. The Allblack fortress basically did not have much stored food; before long, the Hesmor troops would run out of supplies and be forced to leave the city. At that moment, Terax’s soldiers, ambushing in advantageous positions, would have a much greater advantage in combat. Net could completely afford to wait because they had supply lines from Blackmist, while the enemy did not. What he worried about was that Hesmor still had another gathering point at Medit; losing surveillance over the Infernic mountain for a period of time meant he did not know which direction that force had moved toward. There was a high chance they would unite with Ceasar and launch a full assault on the capital. After all, according to common reasoning, the fall of the capital carried greater strategic significance than a fortress located in some remote, desolate place.

  Net’s thinking was very accurate, if that force was led by Este, given the connection among the three families as well as her cautious nature, then joining with Ceasar was absolutely certain. But if it was Melor, then it was another matter.

  Moving along the foothills inside the Infernic range, Melor led an army of more than twenty thousand soldiers gradually toward Allblack. Uniting with Ceasar could allow for a rapid strike through the RhinoHorn territory and an assault on the Golden capital, but he did not want that. What he needed was not a bit of military merit gained from supporting others, but territory conquered personally by him. Joining Ceasar was simply embroidery on brocade, without much effect. What a joke! An army of more than one hundred thousand couldn’t easily take a small city with only twenty to thirty thousand people?

  Melor’s objective was extremely simple. He gave up one third of the Seawall mining area not just to bask in the glow of the three-family army. He wanted to unite with Voga, seize the entire territory of GoldenFang including the Vayle valley, Allblack, and even the Blackmist town. After that, he would immediately attack the Golden capital from the direction opposite to Ceasar, forming a pincer. Ahead of them was the Vayle valley; once they crossed this area, they would reach Allblack. Melor wrote a secret letter, attached it to the leg of a messenger bird, and released it into the sky. If Voga received the message, they could march out of the fortress and coordinate with him to destroy the enemy forces currently besieging them.

  “Chief, the scouts report that an army of twenty thousand people is gradually moving toward our assembly position,” a GoldenFang soldier informed Net.

  The report was like a heavy slash cutting into his pride; once again Net had misjudged the enemy’s actions, and he seemed to harbor a trace of doubt toward himself. There was no other way. Net and Terax had to quickly withdraw to BlackGate (the final fortress in the triangular dungeon system of Allblack, Blackmist, and BlackGate. BlackGate was the fortress blocking the entrance to Golden’s capital region). His army moved immediately after receiving the order to avoid the situation of “a long night producing many dreams.”

  From atop Allblack’s fortress walls, the scouts immediately reported Golden’s movements to Voga. Not long ago, Voga had received a message from Melor; as one of his long-time rivals, he knew well why Melor had come here to help him. Couer, sitting beside him, was openly delighted. Melor’s arrival meant the path back to Hesmor had been opened. He could now leave this accursed place. As for Black Ash, he had certain speculations, perhaps requiring further experimentation. He had sketched the structure of the area and interrogated some of the guards. It would not be long before another Allblack would appear in Hesmor.

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  “We are currently safe. I have received intelligence from Ceasar, seems our forces have taken the ‘BloodClaw’ city. Although the losses were relatively large, around thirty thousand soldiers died, and Commander Mullack also fell in battle.” Voga, unusually relaxed, shared the situation with both Couer and Melor.

  “Hmph! Fugger Ceasar is truly a failure, commanding more than a hundred thousand troops yet losing more than thirty thousand just to take a remote fortress defended by barely over twenty thousand. Failure! A heavy failure,” Couer mocked. The fat man was relying only on numbers and did not realize that thirty thousand casualties were already a very small loss when their troops had to face special forces from four different tribes. Fortunately, the Half-Dragon warriors, the special troops of Dragon Scale, had withdrawn for reasons unknown, otherwise the losses would have been far greater.

  Melor, on the other hand, was calmer. He had never liked the three great families; what he wanted was time, time for Ceasar to decide to attack the RhinoHorn region. He wanted to attack the capital after Ceasar’s army struck first and became the main target of the enemy’s counterattack. It seemed Ceasar was still lying in wait. This was a good chance for him to strike Blackmist, since according to intelligence, Blackmist had only a little more than two thousand defenders. He craved this location. It was an important point connecting trade with the Elf.

  Suddenly, Voga seemed to think of something. He looked at Couer strangely, then turned to Melor and spoke quietly:

  “Hmph! If I’m not mistaken, your target is Blackmist, right, Melor? Then I wonder if you might send back a few "precious things" to the Elf on your way?”

  “Huh? What things?” Melor was surprised. Since when did they possess anything precious belonging to the Elf? The Elf were an arrogant race; the things they were willing to sell to humans were what they deemed low-value or inferior. Truly precious things would never fall into the hands of ordinary beings.

  “You will understand once you see it,” Voga cast Couer a meaningful glance.

  Couer laughed awkwardly. He was a man afraid of death. What was wrong with preparing a backup plan? Not long after, Melor saw the “precious item” Voga mentioned. Seeing the sea-blue eyes of the Elf woman sitting in the center, the nobleman trembled. “Oh My god Enesur! A High Elf.”

  Unlike Greaton, Hesmor was a small kingdom without even an Emperor; the wrath of the Elf was something that could erase Hesmor from the map in a single night. Melor looked at Couer with killing intent. For the first time in his life, he found himself sharing the same viewpoint as Voga, he truly wanted to kill that fat man.

  Melor’s army soon easily captured Blackmist. From Blackmist, he could see the deep-red Crimson Forest in the far distance. That was the territory of DragonScale; many legends surrounded this tribe, but among them the most famous was the legend recorded by the scholar Horta. In one of his works, he had stated that DragonScale bore a mission of guardianship what they guarded was the gate leading to the old continent of dragons. They had existed long before even Ossa was founded, long before Madenes became the DarkGod.

  Melor felt it was best not to foolishly trespass upon their territory. What he needed to do now was to return Saphina to the Elf kingdom. She was like a burning sweet potato in his hand, something that could bring disaster to all of Hesmor. Every High Elf was connected to the Stone of Life. Eliminating Saphina could make things far worse.

  “Among all the merchants I have ever known, Jacor is ambitious and capable; Este is steady and reliable. Only this Couer is stupid. I have no idea by what miracle Loket allowed him to become the clan’s representative.” Melor rubbed his temples in fatigue.

  Melor and his attendants sailed out into the Eldloss Sea, heading straight toward the territory of the Elf. To show goodwill, his ship carried fewer than ten people. Saphira had already been untied and dressed in the finest gown the Hesmor forces had scavenged from Blackmist. Truly, clothes make the beauty, at this moment Saphira shone like a radiant diamond, every gesture exuding nobility and elegance. Every slight frown or smile made a hundred flowers bloom. She was not particularly overjoyed about being freed; simply because she knew that even if they had ten times the courage, they would not dare lay a hand on her. Saphira fell into contemplation; the image of a boy with cold, resolute eyes overshadowed her mind. Those eyes twisted into her heart a strange and unprecedented feeling she had never known. Even in Great Will where countless geniuses of all races gathered, a place overflowing with talent, nothing had ever given Saphira such an odd sensation.

  Her face flushed crimson, a touch of shyness entwined with embarrassment.

  “Is this the legendary love at first sight? What was his name again?”

  From Allblack, Exitus suddenly sneezed. He likely had no idea that the person he wanted to kill felt something unusual toward him. If Exitus knew this, he would not hesitate to blurt out, “Are you stupid or what?”

  The territory of the Elf rarely welcomed visitors from the outside, but recently, humans had been coming back and forth continuously, which greatly irritated Aeryn. The royal Elf felt that this was the most troublesome guard shift he had ever taken. Ever since receiving the misleading information from Golden, he had dispatched an additional unit to watch over the border sea, yet not a single ship had appeared. He felt as though Golden was mocking him. Aeryn reluctantly left his comfortable hammock, scowling as he brewed himself a fragrant cup of herbal tea. As usual, a black raven Druid quickly reported the outside situation to him.

  “My lord! The humans have come with the intention of returning someone… uh… the person they are sending back is Princess Saphira, my lord.”

  “Pffft—”

  All the tea in Aeryn’s mouth sprayed toward the unlucky Druid. Even though hot tea splashed across his face, the Druid did not dare to show a single frown, standing motionless as he awaited Aeryn’s orders. The air around them grew cold; the ground trembled slightly. Aeryn was utterly furious. He swore that if anyone had so much as touched a single strand of his sister’s hair, he would do things very, very terrible to them.

  “How is my sister!” Aeryn’s voice trembled; he was like a volcano on the verge of erupting. One improper answer could trigger a racial war.

  “The princess is healthy and beautiful, my lord! We have thoroughly examined everything. It is just that the princess seems to be thinking about something. She keeps spacing out.”

  Aeryn let out a sigh of relief. Among all his siblings, Saphira was the one he cherished the most. He truly did not wish for anything bad to happen to her. Nothing happening was best; spacing out was perhaps just some psychological effect from being captured for the first time.

  “If there’s nothing else, tell them all to get lost! Quickly, before I change my mind.” Aeryn waved his hand as if shooing flies.

  Watching the Druid fly away, Aeryn no longer felt like resting. After thinking for a long moment, he straightened his clothes and left his tree house; it seemed he had many things he wanted to “talk” about with his sister.