She hadn't killed them on the spot, but whether they could swim to shore alive was anyone's guess.

  The Demon Sea was over three hundred kilometers from the nearest coastline. Paddling back with just hands and feet, their chances of making it ashore alive weren't great—unless they encountered a rescue ship at sea.

  "You're too cruel, Patrick," Luo Wei said, shaking her head. "Life is precious. We should use love to reform our enemies."

  "Next time someone tries to break onto the island, just let them in. We need tons of stone for paving roads and building houses. We need another quarry anyway—perfect for them to volunteer as quarry workers."

  Patrick: [Master, we may not have enough food for them.]

  "We have to provide their food?" Luo Wei sounded surprised. "They're the ones who want to come to the island. Shouldn't they bring their own food?"

  "If they really have nothing to eat, they can catch field mice and pests. I see we've cleared over three hundred acres of farmland—that should be enough for them to hunt, right?"

  "Oh, and the prison doesn't have enough rooms, does it? Probably not enough for them all. From now on, anyone who forces their way onto the island goes straight to the cliff prison. Make them carve out their own cells first. Once they're done, send them to the quarry as miners."

  Patrick fell silent. For a moment, he couldn't tell whose methods were crueler.

  Maybe this was humanity's new way of using love to reform enemies. He'd been dead too long—couldn't keep up with modern trends.

  After his silence, Patrick chose obedience as always.

  [Yes, my master.]

  Luo Wei said with satisfaction, "Let's go. Come with me to see Zachary."

  Patrick nodded slightly. His slender bone fingers touched the stone door and pushed open the heavy gate without visible effort.

  [Master, please.]

  He gestured politely, the eye sockets under his hat brim flickering with quiet blue flames.

  Luo Wei entered the prison. The tunnel inside was deep and narrow. Sunlight couldn't penetrate. Once the stone door closed, the darkness was absolute.

  She lit a flame with her magic wand and followed her memory through the twisting passages to Zachary's cell.

  The firelight stung Zachary's eyes. Lying on the ground, he weakly opened them. His deeply sunken eye sockets were clouded. He couldn't see clearly outside the door—only blurred, overlapping shadows.

  "Is it the second day already?"

  Zachary muttered to himself. His voice was rough and hoarse, his throat dry as smoke, but he still forced himself to speak.

  He knew no one would answer. The guards here were all undead, and he couldn't hear them speak.

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  Staying too long in dark, silent places made people lose track of time, driven mad by endless night.

  So Zachary kept time by counting the undead's visits, scratching marks on the ground with his fingernail. Touching the marks told him how many days he'd been imprisoned.

  The undead came once a day, bringing him a bowl of water each time. But they only brought food every two days—just two thumb-sized fish, occasionally a sour wild fruit. Pathetically little.

  From Luo Wei's perspective, Zachary had wasted away to almost nothing but bones. His clothes hung empty on his skeletal frame, barely staying on.

  His head looked like a skull. His red hair had turned streaked with white. Messy beard stuck to his withered lower face, completely lacking its former vibrant appearance.

  Luo Wei remembered when she'd first met Zachary. His gaze had been sharp as a wolf's, his shoulders broad as a mountain. His curly, fluffy red hair had been like rich red wine, his thick red beard like a wide broom. His style had been rough and fierce, like the harsh wind blowing across the frozen plains.

  Back then Zachary had looked only forty-something. Now he looked like a pitiful old man over a hundred years old, at death's door.

  But Luo Wei knew this was just appearance. A high-level Mystical Smith wasn't as fragile as ordinary people. Despite looking like his bones might fall apart, even starving him another year or two wouldn't necessarily kill him.

  After scratching his mark, Zachary noticed the undead outside hadn't brought his water yet. His clouded eyes squinted outward.

  Today's firelight was different—much brighter than the cold blue flames in the undead's eye sockets, with a warmer tone.

  Zachary realized someone different had come. He propped up his skeletal body and struggled up from the ground. His bony hand slapped the cell door. "It's you, Luo Wei!"

  "It's me, Mr. Bunian," Luo Wei said. "What I asked you last time—have you thought about it?"

  "Hahaha—" Zachary threw back his head and laughed, his voice rough and hoarse. "You've locked me up for three months and twenty-two days. Guess what I think?"

  He lowered his head, looking at her with a twisted expression.

  Luo Wei smiled gently. "Mr. Bunian, you don't need to be angry. Even if you refuse me today, I'll still let you out."

  Zachary squinted his unfocused eyes. "You're that kind-hearted?"

  "Can't help it. Sigh." Luo Wei sighed. "We're like family members who didn't recognize each other, aren't we?"

  She looked at Zachary with a reproachful tone. "Mr. Bunian, since you could get the Fire God himself to descend and plead for you, why didn't you tell me earlier that the God of the Undead and the Fire God are close friends?"

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Zachary's expression turned absurd.

  "Mr. Bunian, stop pretending," Luo Wei said deliberately. "Last night, the Fire God entered my dream and gave me a divine oracle, hoping I'd release you soon."

  "He also said you're weak, pitiful, innocent, and adorable. You can't handle the harsh prison environment or endure hunger. He asked me not to bully you."

  "I've reflected on this. The strong shouldn't quarrel with the weak. What's more, the Fire God sitting high in the clouds personally came to plead for you and brought up his relationship with the God of the Undead. If I still kept you locked up, I'd be ungrateful."

  "Honestly, I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you really were fearless and unyielding like you acted before. Didn't expect you'd be like a three-year-old kid—running to tell the adults when you lose a fight."

  "Ah, sorry. I shouldn't say that. Fire God above, please forgive me."

  "Patrick, open the door. Let Mr. Bunian out!"

  Luo Wei stepped back, letting Patrick move forward to open the door.

  But Bunian in the cell was like an angry, agitated bull, gripping the door and refusing to let go. His hoarse throat tore out a voice like sharp knives: "Explain yourself! What do you mean the Fire God pleaded for you? The great Fire God Hephaestus would never plead with a shameless person like you!"

  "I never asked him to descend! You lying fraud! Scoundrel! What bullshit are you spouting!"

  "I, Rudolf, have been brave my whole life! Who have I ever bowed to! I'm not afraid of death—why would I fear prison? Why would I fear hunger!"

  "Get away! You damn undead, don't open the door! I'm not going anywhere today! Make that lying bastard explain himself!"

  "Damn it! Damn it! The great Fire God would never give divine oracles to someone like you! You blaspheme the gods! You're a compulsive liar! You must confess to the Fire God! Confess!"

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