Leader Hund's jaw dropped.
The sight of Yu i, a woman he knew and respected, being used in such a vile manner, sent a fresh wave of rage through him.
"You animal! You'll pay for your cri!" he roared, his voice thick with fury, as he saw Yu i bouncing on Braco's thick dragon the Head of the Crimson Kingdom.
"Aahaaaaa"
"AAhhhaa"
"Ahhmmmm"
His outburst was t with a chorus of mocking laughter from Braco's guards, their cruel grins twisting their faces. "Listen to the Titan Pantheon dog bark!" one sneered, spitting on the opulent floor.
"He thinks his little threats an anything when he's tied up like a pig for slaughter!" another chid in, pointing a taunting finger at Hund.
A third guard, a hulking brute, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Looks like his spirit is as weak as his bound hands. Pathetic!"
"And that woman," a fourth added, gesturing at Yu i with contempt, "she's just another toy for our great leader."
Braco chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the room.
He ran his hands down Yu i's back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine before settling on her plump buttocks. He squeezed hard, and a choked moan of pain escaped Yu i's lips.
"Hund," Braco purred, his voice dripping with disdain, "there is no one in this world who can make pay for my deeds."
"SLAP"
"AAhhhaa"
He then delivered a sharp slap to the sa area, making it red and bruised. "I decide my own fate. Once I had my eyes on her," he paused, his gaze fixed on Hund, "I got her."
He stopped Yu i's movents, holding her face roughly, forcing her to look at Hund.
Her eyes, filled with a desperate mixture of sha and agony, t Hund's. Braco leaned in, planting a loud, lewd kiss on her mouth, making disgusting smacking sounds, savouring Hund's visible tornt.
On the other side of the castle, Ye Yang ran deeper into the fortress.
The corridor continued to descend, the air growing colder with each step. He soon realized this wasn't just a passage; it was a prison, stretching long and dark. The unsettling feeling intensified.
As he took another step, a shadowy figure lunged at him.
The attack was swift and silent, coming from the darkness. "Slash!" Ye Yang instinctively brought his sword up, the steel cutting through flesh. A muffled groan, "AHAAAA," and the assailant crumpled to the ground.
Ye Yang's heart pounded as he stared at the fallen man. In the dim light, he recognized the face. His eyes went wide in shock. "Uncle Barad?" But the man was dead, his features eerily resembling a familiar face from his original world.
Then, more figures erged from the gloom. Many of them were faces he knew—old comrades, distant relatives, even so who had served his family for years. "What's going on...?" Ye Yang muttered, his puzzlent quickly turning to a chilling realization.
"Sorry, Yang," one whispered, their voice hoarse but their eyes filled with a terrifying killing intent.
"Sorry, young master," another added, stepping closer, a sword held loosely in his hand.
"Sorry, nephew," a third said, his face contorted in a grimace that held no true apology.
"Sorry, child," a fourth intoned, his gaze unwavering.
One after another, they spoke, their words a chilling chorus of betrayal. "We don't want to die, but the cost of our life is your death."
Then, as one, they surged forward, a wave of familiar faces now twisted with murderous intent, all desperate to take his life.
Ye Yang was forced to back off, his mind reeling from the shock. But behind him, the tallic doors of the prison corridor slamd shut with a resounding clang.
The guards who had been standing there, their faces now etched with cruel, mocking smiles, locked the doors.
"Die, you fool!" they sneered, their voices echoing in the sudden, terrifying silence of the enclosed space. Ye Yang was trapped, surrounded by those he once knew, now turned into the people, who resemble his family and friends.
Ye Yang's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword; his knuckles white. The faces in front of him, contorted with killing intent, were sickeningly familiar.
His mind scread, "They are illusions, yes they are illusions!"
He tried to tell himself that these weren't his Family Butler, or the Grand elder, or the distant cousin who he used to play with in the past. But the resemblance was uncanny, the mories they stirred, painful.
He held back, dodging and weaving, trying to avoid striking. His heart ached with each near miss, each familiar face lunging at him with a blade. He saw the Grand elder, Ye Tianxing, his eyes wide with a cold fury, swing a heavy hamr.
Ye Yang ducked, the wind of the blow ruffling his hair. He parried a thrust from what looked like his Aunt Elara, a woman who used to bake him honey cakes, her nimble fingers now wielding a sharp dagger.
The onslaught didn't stop. They moved with a desperate, unified purpose, pushing him back, forcing him deeper into the dark corridor.
The tallic clang of the prison door closing behind him echoed in his ears, a chilling reminder of his trapped situation. "Die, you fool!" the guards' sneering voices still rang in his mind.
He was being cornered, his back hitting the cold stone wall. The whispers of "We don't want to die, but the cost of our life is your death" seed to grow louder, becoming a maddening chant.
A surge of adrenaline, cold and sharp, cut through his emotional turmoil.
He couldn't afford to hesitate. These were not the real people. They were puppets, twisted by so dark magic, re reflections of the people he knowns. With a guttural cry, Ye Yang unleashed his fury.
Holding his sword tightly, he decided to attack. The first to fall was the man resembling his half-brother. Ye Yang's blade sliced through the air, finding its mark with brutal precision.
After killing one, his emotion didn't waver as he rembered that he is in the Shard world, the world of past and not the actual one.
These were not his loved ones, but cruel mockeries, designed to break his spirit.
The hesitation vanished, replaced by a cold, calculated efficiency. The next person to charge was Grand Elder Ye Tianxing.
Ye Yang spun, his sword arcing in a deadly sweep that disard the illusion and then cleaved through its chest. Blood splattered in his face but he didn't stopped.
He moved with a terrifying grace, a dance of death in the dimly lit prison.
The illusion of his mother's guard lunged on him, but Ye Yang anticipated his move, parrying his attack with a sharp clang. He disard him with a twist of his wrist, then delivered a swift, decisive strike that killed him.
He moved among them, a grim reaper to these phantom figures. They ca from all sides, a relentless wave of twisted mories, but Ye Yang cut them down one by one.
The air grew heavy with the faint, sweet scent of blood and sweat in the dark prison.
He dodged a swinging axe from a 'childhood friend', then plunged his sword through its chest.
He blocked a spear thrust from an 'old comrade' and then swiftly ended its existence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last man fell to the ground, leaving Ye Yang standing alone amidst the eerie silence of the prison, his chest heaving, his sword still gripped tight while he was bathed in blood of his own people.
"This is all illusion," he reminded himself.
The path ahead was clear, leading deeper into the darkness. He had no ti to mourn the distorted faces of the people who resembles his family and friends.
His father, Ye Xuan, was sowhere in this twisted fortress, and Ye Yang would find him, no matter the cost. He pushed forward, his resolve hardened by the grueso battle, into the unknown depths of the prison.
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