Monarch of Evernight

There was a quiet dungeon below the castle, the depth of which was even greater than the height of the castle itself. Two werewolves in jailor’s uniform were walking downward along the humid passage at this point, complaining about the weather as they went. Werewolves, as a race, weren’t afraid of the cold, but they loathed moisture with a passion.

There were lamps only at certain intervals along the way, and the dim light from them could barely illuminate a one-meter radius around them. Hence, the greater part of the tunnels was dark.

There was a deep green glow in the eyes of the two werewolves. Activating Nightvision was the only way to move unhindered through these passages.

The area in front widened at the end of the tunnel and a heavy steel door appeared before them. A small window opened after a period of banging, and the werewolf inside observed the guests for a while, sniffing as he did so. Only afterward did the small window close and the large door opened up.

A gush of damp, rotten air poured out as the door opened. Even though they had been here more than just once, the two werewolves couldn’t help but shiver and cover up their noses. This kind of odor was extremely uncomfortable to their acute sense of smell.

After entering, several men rushed over and began searching the two werewolves from head to toe. One of them said, “No need to be so serious, we’ve been here so many times.”

The guard replied, “Can’t help it, the situation is special these days. It’s all because of that fellow inside. It’ll be over for us if we miss something during inspection.”

The boxes of food the two werewolves had brought were also checked in great detail, and only returned when the seals were found to be intact.

After entering the doors and going through a passage, a large hall appeared before them. The chamber was illuminated by raging flames and decorated with dozens of racks containing various kinds of torture equipment. There were traces of dark blood on the floors and walls, as well as numerous immobile corpses hanging here and there.

On each side of the hall was a row of prison cells, including a series of isolated torture chambers. The interior of the torture chambers couldn’t be seen from the outside, but one could easily hear the miserable cries coming from within. Even the inherently cruel werewolves couldn’t help but tremble.

The two werewolves moved swiftly through the hall and took a staircase down from the other end.

There were many floors of prison cells below the torture hall. Some were packed with prisoners, while others were completely empty. The tenants of some cells were lying completely still, their fate unknown.

The tunnel was filled with a putrid odor from the underground air. The two werewolves circled downward for a fair length of time and finally reached the end of their journey.

The air at the end of the passage actually became clearer. The area was suffused with the faint, invigorating scent of the ocean, almost as though it were an immortal realm.

The deepest parts of the prison actually became tall and wide. The place was illuminated with the calm, gentle glow of origin lamps, unlike the choking animal-fat torches of the upper cells.

There were a handful of empty cells at the end of the hall, and only a single chamber at the very end was lit up. This was also the largest prison cell in the vicinity.

The two werewolves arrived outside the prison doors and peered inside.

This prison cell was tidy and clean. An origin lamp each on the walls and roof flooded the room with a bright, warm glow. There was a separate toilet at one corner of the prison cell, and there was even a desk, chair, and bookshelf with a dozen or so books.

A window was open close to the roof, and outside of it was the Eastern Sea. There were bars on the window, but everyone knew that such steel bars were useless against experts. The thing keeping the prisoner obediently inside the room weren’t the bars but the Eastern Sea.

The two werewolves had cleaned this prison cell before, and they knew that it was less than a hundred meters from the sea. Some of the stronger sea-beasts could easily reach this kind of low-lying position. Even they would tremble instinctively when approaching the windows, not to mention those experts with sharp senses.

The desk, chair, and bookshelf were added later on, along with one more origin lamp. The two werewolves had never seen such treatment despite having worked in the prison for many years.

There was a young man inside the prison cell, gently reciting the contents of a book. The book in his hand was of magnificent craftsmanship—ancient, elegant, and of the perfect thickness. The dark blue cover was bound by golden threads that glowed faintly under the lamplight, a stark difference from the tomes on the shelf. The contents of his recital seemed to talk about the history of a certain dynasty, something the werewolves couldn’t at all understand.

One of the werewolves banged on the door. “Young Noble Song, time to eat.”

They opened the door, delivered the box of food, and then closed the door once more. There were two sides to the cell doors, but only one of them could be opened each time.

The young man inside was Song Zining. He looked to be in rather good shape—it was just that his steps looked weak, almost like an ordinary person without cultivation.

There were four dishes, soup, and a flask of wine inside the box. This kind of sumptuous menu was unprecedented in this prison. The werewolves had delivered rations more than once now, but they couldn’t help but click their tongues every time they saw the food.

After duly consuming his meal, he brought out some paper and pen, wrote some words, and then put it into the box. As if gaining an ultimate treasure, the two werewolves carefully memorized the contents of the paper strip before swallowing it whole.

What Song Zining had just penned was a secret art specific to werewolves. The art’s grade was fairly mediocre, and there were hundreds if not thousands of such arts in the Song clan’s depository. These low-level werewolves, however, could only pounce forward with brute force in battle. How could they ever get their hands on a secret art?

One of the werewolves glanced at the surroundings and whispered, “Our messenger respects your great fame and wishes to see you.”

Song Zining smiled. “See me? Here? I think that’ll be difficult.”

The werewolf said, “Us crawlers are everywhere. It may be difficult, but it’s never impossible.”

Song Zining nodded. “I’ll be here for a couple of days still, just let him come then.”

The werewolves burst into smiles upon hearing Song Zining’s agreement. They quickly packed away the food and left.

Song Zining sat down, produced an ancient scroll from his right hand, and began reciting it slowly. This book was actually conjured from the Three Thousand Flying Leaves Art, a thought-provoking scene indeed.

But the day was destined not to be quiet. He hadn’t flipped through a lot of pages when footsteps rang out in the hallway. Someone arrived with loud footsteps, laughing. “Seventh Brother, are you doing well?”

Song Zining felt somewhat surprised. He looked out and saw the approaching person. “Song Zian? So it’s you.”

Song Zian laughed radiantly and said while shaking his head, “Zining, that’s not nice. We haven’t seen each other for so long, yet you won’t even call me brother?”

Song Zining replied calmly, “I’ve long since left the Song Clan, so I’m unrelated to you. Won’t it be a humiliation if I try to cling to our relationship now?”

Song Zian’s smile froze. “Song Zining! You’re in my hands now, how dare you act so insolent? It’s been so many years now, the ancestor won’t look twice at me because of your presence! What do you have? What’s so great about you? It’s all blind luck, worming your way to Heavenly Monarch Zhang’s side and fighting a couple of battles. As for Ningyuan Heavy Industries, how could it have reached this stage if it wasn’t for the old ancestor’s bias?”

Song Zining replied, “What a joke.”

Song Zian erupted in anger. He grabbed Song Zining by the collar and lifted him up, roaring, “Do you dare say Ningyuan was built by your sole efforts? You dare say the old ancestor wasn’t supporting you in secret? Do you dare to claim that your accomplishments today aren’t related to her bias? How many years has it been? My Zian heavy industries can only produce three types of auxiliary equipment in this time-period, yet your Ningyuan can already build airships! What gives you that right? How am I inferior to you!?”

At this point, Song Zian’s expression was twisted and sinister. As if screaming hysterically wasn’t enough yet, he pushed Song Zining violently and sent him crashing to the floor.

The latter slowly clambered up, wiped away the blood from the corners of his mouth, and said, “You won’t believe it even if I say I built Ningyuan from the ground up.”

Song Zian broke into a laugh. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Who’s going to believe you? The old ancestor favors you, anyone can attest to that. Why you? What makes you the future god of strategy? We’re brothers, how am I inferior to you?”

Song Zining tidied up his chaotic clothes and gazed at Song Zian with eyes full of sympathy. “We’re brothers originally, and there’s not much difference between us. But you guys enjoyed an easy life since a young age, never stopping cultivation yet experiencing no life-or-death training. While all of you were living a life of extravagance, I’ve been to Evernight, the bloody battle, the neutral lands, everywhere. Just look at you, only rank-eleven at this age, you’re lagging behind even in terms of level. Do you think you’ll ever reach divine champion in this lifetime?”

Song Zian turned increasingly red. He finally roared, “Shut up! I’ll kill you if you keep talking. I can kill you with a flick of my finger now!”

Song Zining replied calmly, “I only said so much because we’re brothers. In fact, the old ancestor had already made a mistake back then. If she had sent you all with me to Yellow Springs, our Song clan wouldn’t be much weaker than the Zhao today.”