Elliot’s voice rang with conviction, but it only made Marc even more uneasy.“No. I can’t accept that, old man.”Marc slowly shook his head.He knew that if he took even half of Elliot’s internal energy, his cultivation would skyrocket.Even if he had to start back at level one, his progress would be unbelievably fast.But Marc didn’t want to accept that kind of help from the Grand Marquis.It wasn’t about pride. It was about understanding what that power meant.For a cultivator, internal energy wasn’t just strength—it was life.If Elliot gave him half of his, it would be like giving away half of his very soul. Marc couldn't accept something that monumental.“You’ve already been generous enough by giving me the Sky Blossom Pill. That alone meant a great deal to me. I can’t take more than that.”His voice was firm—his resolve, unshakable.“What about the first option? Whatever it is, I’ll do it, as long as it’s within my power.”Marc couldn’t bring himself to accept something so immens

Elsewhere, a few hours earlier…A sleek black Benz rolled to a stop in front of a ruined inn. Moments later, the passenger-side window slid down."Are you sure Lord Belmont is staying here?"Thomas shook his head in disbelief as he addressed Lyman, eyes scanning the devastation around them. Ever since they passed through Greencliff Forest, all they’d seen were crumbling houses and half-finished construction projects—most of them already destroyed.Looking around, it was as if a natural disaster had swept through the area."I’ve confirmed it with Bachary, My Lord," Lyman replied. "This is where Lord Belmont resides."Even Lyman had his doubts—maybe Bachary had given them the wrong location. But the junior butler had reportedly visited this place several times before."My love, doesn’t this seem... too rundown?"Annette's voice broke the silence, laced with unease. Her elegant features creased with concern as she glanced around. “Could Lord Belmont really be living in a place like this?

"Why? Why is there nothing we can do to help Lord Belmont?!"Sasha's voice trembled as she fought to contain her panic, her expression twisted in distress as she confronted her grandfather."What exactly is happening to him?!"Aaaaargh!Even as she spoke, Marc’s agonized screams grew louder, sharper—like the cries of someone being torn apart from the inside. Each one cut deeper than the last, reverberating through every corner of the inn with unbearable intensity."Marc is undergoing treatment. He’s fighting for his life," Elliot said gravely, the gloom on his face refusing to lift."Treatment?" Sasha frowned, confusion giving way to alarm. "What kind of treatment makes him sound like he’s being tortured?!"Given how little she understood of what was happening, her relentless questioning was only natural."It’s a powerful remedy—one with equally powerful consequences."Elliot finally explained everything. Every detail. Including the part he’d deliberately kept from Marc: the devastati

“B-But, my lady…”Bachary looked like he was about to protest.He had never questioned her before. Whatever Darla said, he would carry out without hesitation.But this time… this time felt different. His heart weighed heavy with her words. It felt like he was about to hand this young woman over to the enemy—and do nothing to stop it.Bachary wanted so badly to tell her what Marc was doing right now in Pinewood. That the master healer was working on something—something that could help her escape this marriage.But his mouth froze. He couldn’t bring himself to say Marc’s name. The memory of the promise he had made—to keep this secret from her, at least for now—locked his lips tight.“Enough!”Darla raised her hand.Her face was firm, resolute—even though sorrow still lingered in her eyes.“You’ll never understand what’s happening in my life. This situation is far beyond your grasp. So let me make my own decision.”Her voice trembled with bitterness, but her courage was unwavering.As sh

Stretching hundreds of kilometers south of Lanshire lies a vast island known as Kalidor. But just a few dozen kilometers off the coast of the Brynmor province sits a much smaller island—lush and green when viewed from above. This is Morven, birthplace of the goblins of the Morven bloodline.At the heart of this island stands a grand castle, encircled by five-meter-high stone walls and guarded round the clock by armored sentinels who take shifts without rest.Inside the castle’s council hall, three goblins dressed in regal attire sat in their respective chairs, their expressions tight with tension.“This is incredibly late. Far too late.”A striking goblin woman in her forties, clad in an opulent violet gown, kept casting anxious glances toward the towering three-meter-high doors. Her hand trembled slightly as she clutched a glass of wine—an unmistakable sign of unease. She looked every bit like someone waiting for an arrival long overdue.Her name was Grizelda, the ruling goblin of th