C15 They Were Forced into a Dead End!

The Great Sun hung resplendent in the sky above Thvelond Mount, its rays casting billions of golden beams.

The midsummer heat was intense, scorching the earth with its golden glow as waves of heat rolled across the Savage Lands.

In the Ancient Temple, nestled among the many structures of Thvelond Mount, Zopyrus looked around with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. A throng of disciples had ushered him into the grand hall.

Inside the vast hall, a table was set with ten dishes and a soup, the golden oils releasing an intoxicating aroma, the work of a culinary master.

The crowd welcomed Zopyrus, guiding him to a seat facing the entrance.

"What's all this about?" Zopyrus asked, eyeing Clarkson's beaming smile, feeling as if his heart was being tossed by tumultuous waves.

After being cast into the Gnashing Pit, Zopyrus had braced for death. Yet, unexpectedly, Clarkson and a few others had rescued him. Their treatment of Zopyrus was now incredibly warm, as if they were brothers reunited after centuries apart.

"Ah, how to explain? Reflecting on my actions over the past three years, I realize they were utterly despicable and shameless," Clarkson said, sitting next to Zopyrus, his face a picture of regret.

"Who exactly ordered my rescue?" The suspicion in Zopyrus's heart deepened.

"It was by command of Hephaistos!" At the Eight Immortals table sat ten individuals, all of whom had frequently tormented Zopyrus over the past three years.

Zopyrus's expression turned to one of shock, the imposing figure of Hephaistos flashing through his mind.

"Bang!"

In the midst of Zopyrus's astonishment, Clarkson and the other eight suddenly knelt before him with a resounding thud.

"What are you doing?" Zopyrus was dumbfounded. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to confirm that those who had delighted in tormenting him were now prostrate with remorse, stirring a faint bitterness within him.

"Junior Brother, for the past three years, our actions towards you were inexcusable. Today, let's not dwell on the past. Hit me a few times if it'll help you feel better," Clarkson implored, his eyes reddened with tears.

"What in the world is happening?" Zopyrus's heart softened. Despite the relentless bullying he had endured at the hands of Clarkson and his cohorts, they were still part of the same sect. If it were possible, he would choose to forgive them.

"We witnessed your battle at the border!" Clarkson exclaimed, tears streaming down his face as he recalled the fervor of Zopyrus's combat. He longed to have been there, fighting shoulder to shoulder with him.

"I'm not even human!" Clarkson bellowed, collapsing to his knees before Zopyrus, his face a mess of tears and snot, etched with remorse.

"Stop this, we're more than just fellow disciples; no hatred is too great to overcome!" Zopyrus said, his face etched with compassion as he stooped to lift Clarkson to his feet.

"My brothers, please rise!" Zopyrus implored, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Indeed, Zopyrus was a firm believer that hard work would always be rewarded in the end.

"Junior brother, you must drink this wine, or we'll never forgive ourselves!" Clarkson declared, pouring a cup of wine and offering it to Zopyrus with a grave expression.

"Please, junior brother, drink this cup!" they urged. "Do it as a favor, to accept our apologies!"

Around the Ancient Temple hall, all nine senior brothers made their plea, their faces a testament to their sincerity, leaving Zopyrus no choice but to accept.

"My dear brother!" he called out with gusto, his face alight with exhilaration as he grasped the cup from Clarkson's hand, tilted his head back, and downed the wine in one swift motion.

"Hmm?" But suddenly, as the fiery liquid settled, an unspeakable foulness filled his senses.

"Senior brother, what is this—"

"Boom!"

Instead of Clarkson's warm, smiling face, a massive fist came hurtling towards him, landing with a thunderous impact.

"Splat!"

The force sent Zopyrus's slight frame spiraling through the air; his teeth shattered, and a spray of bright red blood arced through the air, splattering the ground with a tragic sheen.

"Senior brother!" Zopyrus hit the ground hard, scrambling to his feet, his hand over his bloody mouth, staring at Clarkson in disbelief.

"Ha ha ha, I can't stop laughing! Ha ha ha!" The hall echoed with the raucous laughter of Clarkson and his cohorts.

"This fool actually cried, moved by our act—hilarious, ha ha ha!"

"Our performance must be quite convincing. Maybe we should try this on some of the senior sisters and junior sisters next time!"

As Zopyrus listened to Clarkson and his gang's unrestrained laughter and crude jokes, the painful truth dawned on him.

"You bastards!" Ratty bellowed, fury blazing in his eyes as he bit down on his teeth, wishing he could flay the skin from their bodies.

"Hehe, little brother Ratty, how do you like the scent of this young master's special concoction?" Clarkson taunted with a smirk, provocatively gyrating his hips.

"You... you...!" In an instant, Ratty's mind reeled as if it had been blown apart; he finally recalled the pungent stench of the potent liquor.

It was Clarkson's doing...

"Argh!" Zopyrus let out a wretched scream, collapsing to his knees and retching violently, his face turning beet red as if he were about to heave out his very entrails.

"I will kill you all! I swear it!" Ratty screamed, tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision.

But Ratty was just a rat, never destined to become a cat.

"Hmph, kill me?" Clarkson scoffed, pressing his foot down on Zopyrus's face.

"Here's some more delightful news for you. That little runt Judas is on his way to the back of Thvelond Mount as we speak. You catch my drift?" Clarkson sneered, yanking Zopyrus's head up by his black hair.

"Boom!"

A thunderous noise erupted, and Zopyrus felt as though his body might burst. His mind was a jumbled mess, his thoughts nearly solidified.

"Judas, he's gone to the back of the mountain?" Zopyrus strained to focus, pondering the implications.

Judas had ventured to the back of the mountain, but for what purpose?

"Kallisto!"

With a ground-shaking roar, Zopyrus's body surged with newfound strength. His eyes turned a fierce red as he suddenly broke free from Clarkson's grasp. With a deafening crash, he bolted from the Ancient Temple and dashed toward the back of Thvelond Mount.

"Brother, brother!" someone in the hall called out to Clarkson, their voice laden with dread. "Have we... could we possibly have offended someone we shouldn't have?"

Everyone, including Clarkson, was dumbstruck.

In Clarkson's hand was a clump of black hair, drenched in viscous blood.

It belonged to Zopyrus, long and straight. But in that fleeting moment, upon hearing the name Kallisto, he had erupted with such force that his hair was ripped from his scalp, now clenched in Clarkson's grasp.

"We should kill him!" Clarkson's eyes twitched violently as he gazed at the black hair in his palm, drenched in sticky blood.

What kind of tenacious and insane creature was this?

"Kallisto!"

On the white jade steps of Thvelond's back mountain, tears streamed from Zopyrus's eyes. His heart pounded with fear, terrified he wouldn't make it in time to stop what was unfolding.

His long black hair would remain forever in Clarkson's grasp; the back of his head a gory mess, his light blue robe saturated with the oozing blood.

The excruciating pain was nothing compared to the anxiety he had never felt before.

"Kallisto, wait for me! You must fight back! Just hold on, even if it's only for a second, just one second!"

Zopyrus's inner scream matched the wild look in his eyes, nearly splitting them open.

He sprinted, covering dozens of meters in a few strides, racing towards the mountain's back courtyard in a frenzy.

Meanwhile, outside the courtyard at the rear of Thvelond, a youth with light purple hair stood anxiously before the gate, scratching his head in desperation.

This was Judas, the demon among demons, the outcast's warrior.

"Damn it! Didn't that bastard Hephaistos say the glyphs outside the courtyard were disabled?" Judas scowled, clearly upset.

Hephaistos had approached him with news that today would mark a monumental shift in Thvelond.

Clements was plotting a coup to claim the title of Lord of Thvelond, and he wanted Judas to kidnap Kallisto from the back mountain to use as leverage.

Hephaistos had promised to give Kallisto to him in marriage afterward. He also assured that Clements and Zopyrus, the conniving scoundrels, would face severe retribution, meeting their end without a place to lay their remains.

But now, Judas was confronted with the sight of the entire courtyard shrouded in a fearsome glyph, black light coursing through it, emitting an intimidating pulse.

"What do I do now? What's the plan?" Judas muttered, glancing around nervously, dreading Clements's return.

The most exquisite fairy in Thvelond was not Victoria, but Kallisto. Judas, naturally, couldn't resist the allure of the enchanting and picturesque Kallisto.

He had intended to playfully tease Kallisto, but to his dismay, he couldn't even get through the front gate!

"Bam!"

Just then, the glyphs surrounding the courtyard disintegrated into fragments with a mysterious thud, vanishing into thin air!

"What's happening?" With the main gate now wide open, Judas became alert. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of peculiarity, but nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention.

"Little lady, your Judas is here to keep you company!" He rubbed his hands together, eyes narrowing as he confidently strode into the courtyard.

Perched atop a towering tree outside the courtyard, Bucolus watched from the shadows as Judas slipped inside with a sly grin. A determined, sinister smile played at the corners of his mouth.

As he gently caressed the ancient Diagram of Chaos in his palm, Bucolus couldn't help but lift his gaze to the azure sky.

"Everyone is alone. Anyone who longs for a family can forsake all else in its pursuit."

With a soft sigh, Bucolus's attention returned to the Diagram of Chaos. A vision of a tall, cold figure flashed through his mind.

"For the sake of Thvelond, bearing the weight of the world is a small price to pay!" Accompanied by a chilling sigh, the shadowy figure vanished into the mountains behind Thvelond.

Clements had once remarked that only a select few could freely enter the courtyard: Zopyrus, Kallisto, and that one other person.