Chapter 1 The Lord's Castle

The lord's castle was more rustic than imagined—the massive fortress seemed built so tall and thick purely for its function as a military stronghold. Only upon entering did one realize that, aside from the crest of the Dragon Empire and some decorative swords with a martial spirit, there were hardly any superfluous embellishments.

Led by Kaim, Hao Ren and Charlemagne's party walked along the castle corridor towards Duke Owen's chambers, their footsteps echoing in the slightly gloomy passage. Windows lined only one side of the corridor, and sunlight streamed through the tall, narrow openings, falling on the decorative shields on the opposite wall and creating a hazy halo on their surfaces. Dust motes danced in the light, like wisps of smoke.

Along the way, guards and maids respectfully bowed to the special "visiting party" and stepped aside. From their barely concealed expressions of fear, it was clear that although Duke Owen had awakened, his condition was far from good.

At the entrance to the duke's room, an old man in a white robe with blue trim was just walking out.

Kaim stepped forward and nodded to the old man. "Scholar Holman, I have brought the esteemed guests Duke Owen requested."

The old man, Scholar Holman, raised his eyes and glanced at the group before him. His eyebrows twitched slightly, and a hint of displeasure crept into his voice. "I wasn't told there would be so many—the duke's condition is poor; seeing so many people at once..."

"The duke specifically requested to see them," Kaim reiterated. "Scholar, as far as I know, your responsibility is to treat the duke's injuries, not to select his visitors."

Scholar Holman straightened his back, his voice full of vigor. "Reducing visitors is also part of regaining health!"

But before he could finish, a voice even more vigorous came from the room. "Holman! I've only suffered some injuries, I'm far from dead! Let the guests in—don't block the doorway!"

Scholar Holman's face twitched slightly. He sighed in resignation and quietly stepped aside. "Enter, then—try to keep quiet."

Duke Owen lay on a large oak bed in the center of the room, his eyes shining as he looked at the six people entering—Hao Ren and his group of four, plus Charlemagne and his sister. He was an old man of such robust build that one might suspect barbarian blood. His thick hair and beard were characteristic of the north. Despite lying in bed after suffering severe injuries, his large frame, which could not be concealed by the blankets, still possessed considerable presence.

Sunlight streamed into the room through the bedroom windows, which should have brightened the room, but for some reason, Hao Ren's first impression upon entering was one of dimness—dimness was everywhere. Everything in the room seemed shrouded in a veil of shadow. Even where the sunlight shone directly, the floor appeared dull and decaying, as if something were blocking the light.

There was one other person in the room, a silver-haired woman in a white dress with an expressionless face. She stood beside the duke, her head slightly lowered, seemingly a maid tending to the duke's needs. She only glanced at Hao Ren and his group briefly before lowering her head again, remaining still.

"Ah, you've arrived," the old man on the bed said with a smile after the door closed. His voice was steady and strong, not at all like someone rumored to be severely injured and near death. His gaze swept over Charlemagne and his sister, as well as Hao Ren and his group, and he greeted them like an amiable old patriarch. "The prince and princess of Izhsk—ha, I've heard of your experiences. It's not easy for you to get here. How is the country on the other side of the world? And you...mysterious people from the 'World Tree Temple'...truly mysterious. I had the best scholars investigate, but no one knows the origin of the World Tree Temple. You seem to have appeared out of nowhere."

"Duke Haywood Owen," Charlemagne stepped forward and bowed to the old man on the bed. Despite being royalty himself, he paid his respects from the bottom of his heart to a legendary old general like Haywood Owen. "I heard you were severely injured, but seeing you have recovered your spirit puts my mind at ease."

"Ah ha, what a load of bull about recovering," Haywood Owen laughed heartily. "I'm just temporarily alive, still able to see you two youngsters, and...these mysterious friends who came with you."

As he spoke, Duke Owen's gaze landed on Hao Ren—after all, leading two young women and a little girl, Hao Ren stood out the most in the group of four. "I heard you crossed the Black Pine Forest as if taking a stroll, and were able to easily defeat the Gorgon Lord?"

"Just some special abilities," Hao Ren said with a smile. "We have eyes that can see through the mist of the Black Pine Forest, and we happen to have some experience dealing with ancient weapons like the Gorgon Lord."

"Some small experience..." Duke Owen laughed at this statement. "Haha, what an understatement—do you know how many people in this world can cross the Black Pine Forest directly from the maze area like you? And how many can defeat those Gorgon Lords—don't even talk about defeating them, one Gorgon Lord can destroy an entire regular army, and you...啧啧, your World Tree Temple must have quite the origin."

Charlemagne suddenly realized that the old duke's main focus seemed to be on Hao Ren and his group (or rather, on the "World Tree Temple"), so he couldn't help but interject, "Duke, forgive me for interrupting—my sister and I are on an important mission and need to see Princess Constance as soon as possible. May I ask where she is..."

"She's at the front lines, but she already knows you've arrived," Duke Owen said, waving his hand. "Rest assured, she will see you, and soon. Patience, young man, patience is the most important quality—second only to having a good alcohol tolerance, understand?"

Charlemagne opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but Avina spoke first. "We understand."

Then she whispered a few words in Charlemagne's ear. He glanced at the silver-haired woman beside Duke Owen with some surprise, then nodded and said nothing more.

"You, and your 'World Tree Temple'," Duke Owen turned his attention back to Hao Ren and his group. "I don't think you're just an 'isolated hermitage organization', are you?"

Hao Ren didn't know what the other party was getting at, so he temporarily followed the topic. "What aspects are you referring to?"

"Are you..." Duke Owen frowned, as if trying to find the right words. "Do you have any ancient legends, or prophecies, that caused you to set foot in the world again at a special time? Such as regarding the change of eras...ha, logically speaking, organizations like yours that suddenly appear in the world should bring up such things after seeing me, shouldn't you?"

"Oh, it seems like that's how it should be according to most books," Hao Ren patted his head. "Sorry, I've only been doing this for a few years, my work experience isn't very rich yet. But speaking of which, before saying all this, aren't you really going to try to stabilize your condition first? Looking at you...I'm afraid you won't live to see tomorrow."

As soon as these words came out, Charlemagne and Avina widened their eyes in surprise, looking in disbelief at the northern duke lying on the bed, who was full of energy and showed no signs of weakness. The silver-haired woman, who had been keeping her head down, couldn't help but raise her head and quickly glance at Hao Ren.

The northern duke paused for a moment, then laughed heartily. "Haha...you are indeed interesting, indeed interesting..."

"Duke Owen, you..." Charlemagne couldn't help but say, "You are now..."

"I said just now that I'm only temporarily alive," Duke Owen looked at Charlemagne. "It's just that ordinary eyes can't see it at all."

Then he turned to Hao Ren. "You're right, I'm dying, but how did you see it?"

"Never mind that for now," Hao Ren said bluntly. "Let us see your wound."

"It might be very scary," the old general on the bed said with a smile. "There are several ladies here, and a little girl, do you really want to see?"

"That's exactly what I want to see," Lily stepped forward, pointing to the location of Duke Owen's chest. "Open it up, the bandages and ointment inside are useless."

Duke Owen withdrew the smile from his face and nodded silently. The silver-haired woman next to the bed then stepped forward and gently lifted the blankets covering the duke.

The old general's upper body was bare, wrapped in thick bandages, but there was no blood or anything else seeping from beneath the bandages.

The silver-haired woman did not unwrap them, but gently brushed her hand over the bandages. The thick bandages then broke and opened, revealing the shocking truth beneath.

Beneath the bandages, large patches of flesh on Duke Owen's chest had already rotted and mutated. A twisted, torn wound was located on his right chest, and the flesh around the wound appeared blackish-purple and sunken inward, as if corroded by strong acid. The most terrifying thing was that the wound and the surrounding rotten flesh were actually "alive"!

The rotten, mutated flesh seemed to have independent life, wriggling and constantly expanding its area of decay. At the boundary between the rotten flesh and normal flesh, the rotten parts even grew small thorns and tooth-like structures, tearing and devouring the surrounding healthy flesh.

After only one glance, Avina retreated with a pale face—but at least she didn't scream.

After all, she had already seen the appearance of the Black Knight after his mutation.

"It hurt quite a bit at first, but now I don't feel anything," Duke Owen lowered his head and glanced at the injury on his chest. "They are gradually replacing my body. Some of the nerves have been 'eaten' by them, which is a kind of relief."

"Haven't you tried treatment?" Charlemagne's expression was terrible, but he still spoke in a calm tone.

"I tried cutting off the rotten flesh, but it immediately grew back, exactly the same as before it was cut off. Digging out the entire wound doesn't work either. The corruption doesn't seem to be rooted in the flesh, but in my soul," Duke Owen said indifferently. "Ointments, magic, and even elven blessings have all been tried. This change is irreversible—only Scholar Holman's secret technique has produced a little effect. He cut off part of my soul, allowing me to talk to you clearly. But this state shouldn't last long either. I can already hear small voices buzzing in my head, blasphemous words. They, like these flesh buds and teeth, are slowly gnawing through the mental protection barrier set up by Scholar Holman..."