Deep zone, inside a shadowy cavern, discordant noise echoed.

“Help! Save us! Let us go!”

The lanky thug and his gang, bound tightly in mycelial threads until they could hardly move, huddled together like livestock awaiting slaughter, wailing in terror.

“Shout all you want! Even if you scream your throats raw, no one’s coming to save you! Hahaha!” A monstrous, inhuman voice roared, and the cavern briefly fell silent—before erupting into even more desperate sobs and cries.

Piglet crossed her arms with a frown. “So noisy. Big Bro, do you really have to tease them like this?”

“You really don’t appreciate fun, huh!” Lin Jun complained, though he still obliged her.

Hallucinogenic spores spread quietly. The cries soon weakened, dwindled, then faded into silence—leaving only heavy breathing and faint murmurs.

After a short while of “processing,” a strange delicacy, the “Delicious Lanky Man,” was freshly prepared.

Piglet carefully scooped up a thread of crimson liquid and sipped it.

The moment it slid down her throat, her whole body jolted as though struck by lightning! She shuddered violently, then threw her head back, eyes clamped shut, savoring it as if it were some ultimate ecstasy.

Lin Jun asked quickly, “Well? How is it?”

When Piglet finally opened her eyes, the way she gazed at the unconscious lanky man had changed completely—blazing, as though staring at a priceless treasure.

“Big Bro,” her voice trembled with excitement, “I’m not exaggerating. If you brought this man to the Empire, a high-ranking duke might trade an entire city for him! More likely, they’d start a war just to seize him…”

“It’s that valuable?” Lin Jun was stunned.

Piglet nodded hard, her voice brimming with certainty. “Big Bro! This is truly unparalleled delicious blood!”

And it was [Delicious LV8]!

Lin Jun mulled it over—yes, that rating made perfect sense.

He bottled several flasks in magically preserved containers, sending them through the Duke’s spy network, marked with the highest importance.

…

Meanwhile, within the Scarlet Spire—

Sigismund sat with furrowed brows, leafing through a tome radiating ancient aura, focused on the essence of souls and separation rites. His wide desk was piled high with similar books.

His newly appointed adjutant stood nearby, dutifully reporting the progress of the “Abyssal magic user recruitment.”

As for the previous adjutant, who had grown suspicious, Sigismund had already promoted and sidelined him—reassigned to tedious logistics with no say in real matters.

The new adjutant, oblivious to the Duke’s “abnormalities,” felt honored to be trusted with central affairs.

Sigismund endured the nonsense of that unwanted “roommate” who abused his authority and left him to clean up the mess. He turned a blind eye, biding his time.

In return, as part of this unspoken “mutual truce,” Lin Jun did not interfere with Sigismund’s studies, even though he knew the Duke was clearly searching for a way to banish—or even destroy—him.

Thus they maintained a fragile, bizarre balance, sharing the body like reluctant roommates, each pursuing his own schemes in turn.

As for the fate of those low-tier evil sorcerers? Neither cared.

But the recruitment itself progressed more smoothly than expected.

—

Half-demon Valen clutched his worn mage’s robe tighter, its edges frayed. His gaunt face bore exhaustion and desperation, yet his sunken eyes glimmered with renewed fire after seeing the recruitment notice.

Duke Sigismund himself… openly recruiting evil sorcerers, with no rank restrictions!

The news crashed into the circle of struggling low-tier evil sorcerers like a boulder dropped into still water, sending shockwaves.

Valen decided without hesitation—he had to go!

Among the Empire, though evil sorcery wasn’t as strictly outlawed and hunted as in human kingdoms, that hardly meant they had a good reputation.

Countless cases of self-detonation disasters—taking half a lab or an entire team down—made them in most eyes nothing but walking unstable runes. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ nοvelfire.net

Especially the low-tier ones.

Those who survived to high-tier usually had worked out reliable casting methods, and those were the ones the Empire might truly accept.

Valen was far from such heights.

Just last week, he had drained his savings to buy seven sturdy slaves from black-market dealers, dragging them back to his secret lab.

He had confidently prepared to conduct a ritual he’d deciphered from a tattered grimoire—supposedly to summon and control a certain abomination.

The result… was catastrophic.

At the final moment, the ritual’s power backfired completely. The seven slaves didn’t even scream before they exploded.

The stench of blood still clung to the lab, and cleaning the remains had nearly made him vomit.

Not only had his investment gone to waste, but he had no money left for new “supplies.”

Debt collectors had already begun knocking. He knew his fate, if he couldn’t raise funds, would be no better than those slaves.

In that moment of despair, he saw the Duke’s notice.

To serve the Duke!

That meant steady income, precious materials, and most of all—protection!

As for risk?

Valen sneered—could anything be worse than now? Dying on the Duke’s task might even be better than being sold into slavery.

The thought that the Duke himself might deceive him never even crossed his mind.

Even in a ruthless Empire, a noble’s public reputation had weight.

A mighty Duke would hardly tarnish his name just to trick a few worthless low-tier evil sorcerers, people who weren’t worth two drops of oil.

What he worried about more was competition.

The notice said no limit, but surely the Duke wouldn’t keep an army of failures like him.

In the end, only the best—or luckiest—would remain.

As he glanced at the other sorcerers gathered with the same hope in their eyes, he also saw the same wary calculation.

Whatever it took, this was his last chance. He would seize it!