~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
Zachary's rough face twisted into something ugly.
"Prisoner?" His facial muscles twitched. "Miss Luo Wei, you'd better know what you're saying. I, Zachary, am not—"
"Not someone to be trifled with. I know." Luo Wei cut him off cleanly. "Didn't you say you could smash my head in with one punch?"
"Mister Bunian, why don't you try it right now?"
Zachary's glare could have peeled bark. "You think I don't dare?"
"Do you, though?" Luo Wei said, all innocence. "Mister Bunian, I genuinely don't understand why you'd hold such tremendous malice toward a frail, delicate girl like me."
"I've never wronged you. I even gave you my business."
"When you threatened and extorted me, I complied out of fear. I gave you so much money. And yet you hurt me again and again, and now you want to harm my subordinates on top of it."
"Alas." She shook her head and sighed. "The world truly has gone to rot. For everyone's safety, I'm afraid I'll have to restrict your personal freedom."
"Frail? Afraid?" Zachary's face contorted. Hot air blasted from his nostrils. "You've managed to say every possible thing about yourself, good and bad alike."
"I knew I wasn't wrong the moment I first saw you. You have ambitious eyes. You're no kind-hearted noble girl."
"I've never heard of a force like yours anywhere on the Western Continent. Who exactly are you?"
"I told you," Luo Wei said, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I'm the master of Demon Island. But you didn't believe me, Mister Bunian."
Zachary's expression was complicated. He truly hadn't.
Before setting foot on Demon Island, he'd convinced himself his first instinct about Luo Wei had been wrong. A person with brains and real ambition would never stoop to something this petty. When she'd declared herself master of Demon Island, he'd written it off as a proud noble girl trying to claw back some dignity after losing face in front of him.
He hadn't even planned to follow through. But she paid well, and playing along with a haughty little noble's revenge fantasy cost him nothing.
He never imagined he'd deliver the slaves and walk straight into an Undead ambush.
They'd been waiting at the shoreline. The moment his ship docked, a swarming mass of Undead closed in from all sides. The leading Necromancers attacked without preamble, and because he'd been careless, because he hadn't taken any of this seriously, he fell victim to one of their dark spells almost immediately, nearly losing control of his own body.
What staggered him more than anything was the Necromancer's strength. Senior Magister. The creature had the power of a Senior Magister.
Zachary was a senior Mystical Smith himself, but a Mystical Smith's magic was built for tempering the body. Solid in defense. Weak on offense.
A Necromancer's body was just dry bone. Breaking it did nothing. Their power came from the soul, and souls had no substance to hit. His fists cut through air again and again, landing on nothing.
In the end, they'd both unleashed their strongest attacks at the same moment. Their eyes met across the distance, and they both understood: if either of them followed through, neither would survive.
Zachary wasn't ready to die. The Necromancer apparently wasn't ready to dissipate. They stopped by unspoken agreement but held their stances, neither willing to turn their back on the other.
That had been three days ago.
The Undead didn't need food or water. Humans did. Zachary was parched, starving, and every hour he stood there, more strength bled out of him. Only then did he see it clearly — the Necromancer could have taken him from the start. Instead, it was playing with him like a cat with a mouse, waiting for him to run dry so it could finish the job without breaking a sweat.
Cunning, treacherous creature. Truly no good.
Zachary's regret was bottomless. Why had he come to Demon Island? Why had he taken her money? If he'd never made this deal, none of this would have happened.
But regret changed nothing. He could feel his senses going dull as his stamina failed, his legs numb and locked, his arms too leaden to raise. If he kept this up, the trap would close around him on its own.
Better to move while he still had something left.
He buried his fury and looked at Luo Wei. "I underestimated you. But I have never heard of a force like yours anywhere on the Western Continent. Who exactly are you?"
Demon Island had stood for thousands of years. If someone had conquered it, word would have traveled long ago. The only explanation was that she'd taken it recently.
Smart people gave themselves away with a glance. Luo Wei turned his probing aside without effort. "Before I answer that, shouldn't you show a little good faith, Mister Bunian?"
"For instance," she said, watching his exhausted face with dark, smiling eyes, "tell me who you are first."
"As you see." Zachary didn't hesitate. "I'm just a slave trader."
"Oh? A slave trader who keeps a stable of toothless old men?" Luo Wei's voice was light, almost casual. "Those decrepit slaves are window dressing, aren't they?"
"Miss Luo Wei, your imagination is impressive," Zachary said flatly. "But I am, in fact, exactly what I said."
Luo Wei sighed. "Mister Bunian, I thought we were friends by now. You still consider me an outsider?"
Zachary's face twitched. Friends? How could she say that word with a straight face?
Friends didn't plot to take you prisoner.
"Think whatever you like, miss. I've told you the truth." Not a blink.
Luo Wei pressed a hand to her chest and stepped back twice, the picture of devastation. "Mister Bunian, I thought you'd at least admit to being a senior Mystical Smith."
Zachary's eyes went wide as bronze bells. How did she know that?
A few seconds passed. He glanced at Patrick. The Necromancer had told her.
"I am a senior Mystical Smith," he said at last. "That doesn't mean a senior Mystical Smith can't be a slave trader."
"Well. Since you won't tell me more, I won't push." Luo Wei's voice was perfectly gracious. "I respect your privacy, Mister Bunian."
Zachary's expression settled into something like smug expectation. Magical weapons forged by a senior Mystical Smith were priceless beyond measure. The moment he revealed what he was, doors opened wherever he went.
"Now that you know I'm a senior Mystical Smith," he said, chin lifting, "release me."
"Release me, and I'll forgive your insolence. I'll even give you one opportunity to commission a magical weapon from me."
"Mister Bunian, you really are something..."
Luo Wei shook her head, laughing despite herself. Then her expression changed, one breath like a door slamming shut, and her eyes went cold.
"Take him." She stepped back and raised her hand. The Necromancers moved. "If he resists, kill him."
Zachary's face drained. "Miss Luo Wei, what is the meaning of this? I am a senior Mystical Smith!"
"Yes." Luo Wei's face held a kind of bright, guileless cruelty. "A senior Mystical Smith. Which means if I capture you, I'll have a senior Mystical Smith for a slave."
"But if I let you walk out of here, someone else gets to benefit."
"What I can't have, no one else should have either."
"So." She blinked, tone light as a spring morning. "I won't press you to share your secrets anymore, Mister Bunian. And as for your forgiveness — I don't need it!"
➤ Next: Divided Out the Authority Again
───── ⊹ ⊹ ─────
📖 Read up to 300+ advanced chapters on Pat reon
🔍 Search: p a t r e o n(.)com/BZDXG
───── ⊹ ⊹ ─────