Morgan's pupils shrank slightly, and his brow furrowed even tighter.
He re-examined Lin Gui from head to toe, top to bottom.
His magic perception swept over him again and again.
There was no mistake.
This mage who claimed over and over to save the half-demons seemed... to only be a High-tier High Rank.
Morgan froze.
He glanced at Elvia again.
A High-tier High Rank knight.
Then he glanced at Irene in the corner.
A Low-tier Transcendent mage.
The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement, but out of a sheer, infuriating sense of absurdity.
“You people...”
His voice trembled slightly, not out of fear, but from an uncontrollable surge of anger and disbelief.
“You have one High Rank mage, one High Rank knight, and one Transcendent mage!”
He thrust a hand out, pointing at Lin Gui, his finger trembling slightly.
“You ran all the way into the Forbidden Zone of the Withered Wood Wasteland, telling over four thousand half-demons that you'll lead them out, build a city-state of freedom and equality, and fight the Alliance?”
He drew a deep breath, his voice suddenly rising sharply.
“In our sanctuary, we have one Mid-tier Legendary mage, three Low-tier Legendary assassins, one Low-tier Legendary knight, and over a hundred Transcendent warriors! Even we cannot solve our current plight!”
“What gives you the gall to spout such arrogant nonsense!”
His gaze pinned Lin Gui's face like a blade.
“Relying on your mere High-tier High Rank power?”
Before his words even finished falling,
Bang—
A dull, explosive sound burst open right behind Morgan.
Everyone was startled.
The half-demon commoners shrank back instinctively, some pulling their nearby children close.
Guy's legs buckled, nearly collapsing onto the ground.
Irene stood up from the corner, her staff already gripped in her hand.
Yet none of them knew what had just happened.
Everyone looked around in bewilderment, their eyes finally settling on the earthen wall behind Morgan.
Grey smoke rose from the wall, slowly dispersing.
After the dust settled, a deep slitting mark was exposed, half a meter long, its edges as smooth as tofu cut by a knife.
Rubble and dust fell pattering from the edges of the slash.
It seemed to be a magic attack.
Yet no one had seen where the attack came from.
There was no fluctuation of mana, no surge of airflow, and no sign of an impending attack.
It had simply appeared out of thin air and disappeared into thin air, leaving only a deep gouge in the wall.
Morgan stood in place, not turning around.
His body froze for a second before he lowered his head to glance at his left shoulder.
At the shoulder of his mage robes, a fine slit ran neatly across, looking as if tailored by scissors.
The undershirt beneath was also split open, revealing a faint white trace on his skin.
There was no blood.
His skin hadn't even broken.
Feeling the magic dissipating from that slitting mark, as a Mid-tier Legendary mage, he instantly identified the nature of the attack.
It was likely a Mid Rank Wind spell—Wind Blade.
The power of a Mid Rank spell couldn't possibly harm him; even his magic shield hadn't been triggered by it.
However, that wasn't the issue.
The issue was that the Wind Blade had literally brushed past his face, yet his magic perception had failed to issue a single warning from start to finish.
It hadn't caught the fluctuation of condensing mana, nor the change in wind pressure, nor any sensation of being targeted.
Not until the Wind Blade grazed his shoulder and slashed into the wall did he confirm its existence with his own eyes.
A cold chill ran down Morgan's back.
He slowly turned his head back to look at Lin Gui.
Concealment magic?
Not ordinary concealment, but an absolute concealment that even a Legendary mage couldn't perceive.
How could this be possible?
The black-haired mage still stood in his original spot, his black eyes calmly meeting his gaze, without even moving a finger.
“I don't have time to waste on you.”
Lin Gui's voice was not loud, but every word was crystal clear.
“I went through so much trouble to lure the main hunting force away; I won't waste what little time remains.”
Morgan froze in place, his lips moving slightly, but no sound came out.
Lin Gui didn't look at him again.
He turned around, walked over to the railing on the second floor, and faced the over four thousand half-demon commoners below.
“Now, you have two choices.”
His voice echoed through the quiet underground space.
“Either stay here and watch with your own eyes as your family, your friends, and every familiar face are dragged away by those mages.”
“Bound to cold stone platforms, their skin sliced open, blood drained into bottles, labeled, and placed on shelves to await the next mage.”
“Or—”
Lin Gui's voice rose slightly.
“Leave this place with me to build Second Avalon.”
His gaze swept across those desperate faces, his voice carrying an unquestionable, icy resolve.
“If all goes according to plan, I might even help you leave those magic family members behind in the wasteland forever.”
He clenched his fists, icy killing intent surging within his grey eyes.
“Slaughter every last one of them.”
The hall fell so quiet that one could hear the crackle of the flames within the fire circles.
Over four thousand pairs of blood-red eyes watched him; no one spoke.
Right at that moment—
“Rustle... rustle...”
A faint static noise emerged from inside Lin Gui's robes.
It wasn't magic, but a Transmission Stone.
Everyone's eyes were drawn to the sound.
Lin Gui didn't panic.
Unhurriedly, he retrieved the stone from his chest, his fingertips lightly rubbing its surface.
The static disappeared, replaced by a deep male voice.
“This is the Eli family.”
“Our prey is still secured. Those two half-demon warriors attempted suicide, but we stopped them.”
“One bit their tongue and the other bashed their head against the wall, but neither managed to die. Tsk, quite feisty.”
Lin Gui's Adam's apple bobbed.
A deep, raspy, slightly impatient voice suddenly spoke.
“Keep a close eye on them. Don't let them die—the superiors want them alive.”
The voice on the other side spoke up again.
“Understood, Lord Laine.”
“May I venture to ask how the negotiations are coming along?”
“The delicate mages on our end are already struggling to endure the bitter cold of the wilderness.”
“Of course, they aren't trying to rush the progress of this grand hunt; they are simply eager for the celebration banquet hosted by the Tower Master.”
Lin Gui glanced at Morgan.
Morgan was staring intently at him, his blood-red eyes churning with shock, confusion, and an indescribable emotion.
Lin Gui withdrew his gaze and spoke into the Transmission Stone.
“The negotiations are progressing smoothly. Wait a little longer; it will be over soon.”
The voice was still that deep, raspy male tone.
A lazy reply came from the other end, and then the connection cut off.
Before anyone could react, another Transmission Stone sounded.
“This is the Ao family.”
“Reporting on the prey: three half-demon warriors. Two fainted from hunger, and one is still struggling, but all are alive.”
“Any word on whether the negotiations yielded a result?”
“Some people over here are placing bets, saying that lowly race won't last through tonight.”
Lin Gui switched to yet another voice.
Young, carrying a trace of lazy exhaustion.
“The negotiations are going smoothly. Tell your people to be patient.”
Another stone sounded.
Then a fourth, and a fifth.
Different voices came through each Transmission Stone.
Different families, different locations, different situations regarding the prey.
Some complained about the food, some complained about the insects, some asked when they could return to attend the banquet, and others placed bets on when the sanctuary would yield.
And Lin Gui, using different voices, accurately responded to every single sentence.
The hall was dead silent.
The half-demon commoners widened their eyes, looking at Lin Gui as if he were a monster.
They didn't recognize the specific names or families in those conversations, but they could hear it clearly.
In a mere instant, this black-haired mage had switched through over a dozen different voices.
Men, women, young, old, raspy, clear—every single one was distinctly unique, sounding entirely like a different person.
Guy stood with his mouth agape, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor.
Irene's eyes held astonishment.
Elvia poked half her head out from behind Lin Gui, her golden eyes reflecting surprise as well.
She had seen Lin Gui use Voice Mimicry before, but never had she seen him switch through so many voices at once, doing so with such speed and ease.
As for Morgan, he stood rooted to the spot.
His mind was turned completely upside down.
Those voices... he recognized them.
If he wasn't mistaken, they belonged to the guards from the City of a Thousand Towers secretly monitoring the sanctuary outside!
The elites Edwin had brought to encircle them!
The sounds from the Transmission Stones finally ceased.
Lin Gui stowed the last stone back into his robes, raised his head, and looked at Morgan.
“Make your choice.”
His voice returned to normal—flat, calm, devoid of emotion.
“I've lured Edwin and his group to the Ross family camp.”
“In two hours at most, they'll realize something is wrong and return.”
He paused.
“When that happens, you'll be nothing more than fish on their chopping block.”
“Do you want to lead these people who trust you into gambling on the butcher's morality...”
His gaze swept across those emaciated half-demon commoners before falling back onto Morgan's face.
“...or take a gamble with me?”
“You must tell me your choice right now.”
The hall was quiet enough to hear heartbeats.
Over four thousand pairs of blood-red eyes landed squarely on Morgan in unison.
Morgan stood there, arms hanging by his sides, his fingers clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
His face contorted, his brow creased into a deep furrow, and his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, or as if he were engaged in a final internal struggle.
Countless thoughts surged through his mind.
Cedric and Lia were gone, and Hewlett was gone too.
They had gone to meet their deaths.
And he had nearly agreed to Edwin's terms, sacrificing himself in exchange for these commoners' lives.
He had thought that was the only way out.
Yet now, a High Rank mage stood before him, telling him that there was another choice.
Was it credible?
A High Rank mage, accompanied by a High Rank knight and a Transcendent mage, had slain over a dozen High-tier Transcendent guards in the Forbidden Zone, deceived all the hunters using Transmission Stones, and lured Edwin's group elsewhere.
He said he would build Second Avalon.
He said he would fight the Alliance.
He said he could lead these half-demons out of their desperate situation.
Morgan drew a deep breath, his voice raspy as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
“How... how certain are you?”
Lin Gui didn't answer directly.
Looking at Morgan, he asked in return,
“Guy told me you are a tri-element Legendary mage specializing in Earth, Water, and Wind.”
He paused.
“Do you... know Hurricane Propulsion?”
...
Meanwhile, at another magic family gathering site.
The perception magic pillar towered in the center of the camp, emitting a faint eerie blue light.
Embedded at the top of the pillar was a giant perception crystal, inside of which countless tiny motes of light moved slowly like fireflies trapped in amber.
On the west side of the camp, right beside the gathering area, stood crooked, temporary cages.
Through the gaps in the wooden fence, several pairs of blood-red eyes glared intently at the mages laughing and chatting in the center of the camp.
Those were the captured half-demon warriors.
They curled up in the corners of the cages, covered in injuries.
Some had broken arms, while blood still dripped from the foreheads of others—marks left from slamming their heads against walls.
There was no fear in their eyes, only hatred.
The hatred was so thick it seemed ready to bleed.
Their bodies were so starved they could barely stand, their limbs bound by chains, and power-suppressing arrays surrounded the cages.
Everything pinned them mercilessly to the ground.
Yet they did not bow their heads.
Pair after pair of blood-red eyes stared fixedly through the wooden bars at those mages.
Their fiery gazes looked as if they wished to burn those people to ashes.
At the gathering site, Marcus, the warrior who had just finished reporting, put away his Transmission Stone and turned around.
The people nearby immediately crowded around him.
“How is it?”
“What did they say over there?”
Marcus wiped the sweat from his face, his tone relaxed.
“We have to wait a bit longer. Laine said the negotiations are going smoothly and told us to be patient.”
As soon as those words fell, dissatisfied mutters echoed through the crowd.
A young mage in luxurious robes, Alberto, leaned back in a chair with his legs crossed, playing with a gem-encrusted ring in his hand, his brow deeply furrowed.
“Wait longer?”
His voice carried clear impatience.
“How many days have we been stuck here? We can't even get a hot meal, let alone see a woman.”
A middle-aged warrior stepped close beside him, lowering his voice with a suggestive smirk at the corner of his mouth.
“Young Master Alberto, if it's women you want... among those captured half-demons, a few actually look quite decent.”
Alberto froze for a moment, then turned his head to glance at the cages on the west side.
Those emaciated half-demons in tattered clothes were glaring at him with blood-red eyes.
His brow knitted tightly, unhidden disgust surfacing on his face.
“Are you insane?”
His voice rose several pitches higher.
“They're skin and bones, like skeletons—how could you even stomach that?”
He withdrew his gaze and curled his lip.
“Besides, those are experimental subjects.”
“Touching them feels like raping a demon.”
The middle-aged warrior gave an embarrassed laugh and fell silent.
Over by the cages, the sound of dragging chains suddenly clanked.
In those blood-red eyes, the hatred grew even darker.
Someone in the cage muttered a raspy curse, as if grinding it out from the bottom of their throat.
Alberto heard it.
He turned his head toward the cage, a contemptuous smile curling on his lips.
“What? Still defiant?”
He stood up, walked to the edge of the cage, and looked down at the half-demon warriors.
“You beasts should consider it a mercy that you get to be delivered alive to the test bench.”
He squatted down, and through the wooden bars, poked the forehead of the half-demon closest to him.
“Don't look at me like that—you don't even qualify to be raped.”
The half-demon warrior's forehead was pushed back by his finger, but his eyes never strayed.
In his blood-red eyes, the hatred was so dense it threatened to overflow.
His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.
Yet his body trembled—not out of fear, but from the unyielding anger bound tight by chains.
Alberto laughed even more gleefully at his reaction.
He stood up, dusted off his hands, and strolled back to his seat.
“Beasts will be beasts.”
He crossed his legs, cursing under his breath.
“Can't even provide a bit of entertainment.”
Right at that moment,
a faint static sound came from Marcus's waist.
Everyone's eyes were drawn to it at the same time.
It was the Transmission Stone from the direction of the sanctuary, sounding once again.
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