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Join the ServerZong Mi had no time to think. He immediately layered three Gale Spells on himself and shot toward the border between the Domain of the Dead and the Elven Forest like a gust of wind.
The Southern Continent contained more than just the Domain of the Dead. It was also home to the natural forest inhabited by elves, commonly known as the Elven Forest.
Unlike the heavy aura of death that permeated the Domain of the Dead, the natural forest overflowed with life. Towering trees stood everywhere, and the entire forest radiated vitality.
If Black Wizards received a natural environmental boost in the Domain of the Dead, then the Elven Forest would suppress their abilities to their weakest state.
But Zong Mi was not heading there for such a simple reason.
Within the forest lived one of the greatest powers on the entire continent—and, by sheer coincidence, that person was his teacher.
Although Zong Mi’s method of finding teachers tended to be rather impulsive, the title was occasionally useful. It had not been easy to earn; back then, he had painstakingly crafted the appearance of a pitiful, miserable wanderer to awaken that teacher’s sympathy.
Unfortunately, there was a problem.
The Dark Priest Temple lay deep within the Domain of the Dead, far from the Elven Forest. The distance was not merely inconvenient—it was enormous.
Even riding the wind, Zong Mi was not confident he could escape the Black Wizard’s grasp.
After all, this was the strongest spellcaster of the current age. Ten years earlier, when they first met, the man had already been level 98.
Level 98 was only two steps away from the divine level of 100. Against Zong Mi, it would be like crushing an ant.
If Cyril, the future Pope, was only in the low eighties, Zong Mi could still take his chances. Priests were not known for overwhelming combat power.
But a wizard—especially a Black Wizard renowned for fighting?
Running was the only sensible option.
Especially considering the not-so-good things Zong Mi had done in the past.
Legend said that the deepest part of the Domain of the Dead contained a Black Forest inhabited by the strongest Black Wizard alive.
Just like the Elven King of the Elven Forest, no one knew how long this Black Wizard had lived. History, however, was filled with records of his deeds.
In the 1300s of the Star Calendar, a war accidentally spread into the Domain of the Dead. When the mightiest golden dragon of the era flew over the Black Forest, a curse saturated with decay struck it from the sky. Black flames spread across its scales and burned them away. It was said that the entire Southern Continent heard the dragon’s terrified screams.
The dragon never returned. From that day on, a gigantic bone dragon guarded the entrance to the forest.
In the 1700s, a massive academic conflict erupted between mages and wizards. A necromancer who had surpassed level 90 challenged the wizards in the depths of the Domain of the Dead and defeated many of them. At the end, he attempted to cast the forbidden spell Undead Cataclysm and suffered backlash. Witnesses later claimed he became a lich and a permanent servant of the Black Forest.
Countless similar stories existed.
Scholars who later compiled these records concluded that the curse which transformed the golden dragon into a bone dragon belonged to one of the most obscure and powerful techniques in the Black Wizard system.
A legendary eighth-tier witchcraft said to surpass even forbidden spells.
Zong Mi knew all of these legends when he first entered the Black Forest.
That did not stop him.
To say he wasn’t nervous would be a lie. The Black Wizard’s reputation was terrifying—rumor claimed that anyone who entered the forest received a Great Curse.
After carefully avoiding the bone dragon at the entrance and sneaking past the rumored lich servant, Zong Mi finally entered the Black Forest.
And promptly got lost.
The forest was vast. Dead trees stretched in every direction like demons with open jaws, making it impossible to tell east from west.
As he wandered aimlessly, a calm voice suddenly came from above.
“Can you tell stories?”
Zong Mi looked up cautiously.
A man in black robes sat on a withered branch. His hair was a cold gray, matching his silver-gray eyes—clear and lifeless, like dried grass. His hands, hidden within the robes, were pale, slender, and elegant.
They were the hands of a high-ranking spellcaster.
Zong Mi recognized that immediately.
Truly powerful spellcasters did not need staffs or catalysts. They could cast forbidden-level magic with a gesture, reaching the realm where magic followed thought.
Wizards, who specialized in curses, relied even more heavily on their hands than mages did.
In an instant, Zong Mi understood who this man was.
“What… kind of story?”
Perhaps because those eyes lacked the cruelty described in the rumors, Zong Mi relaxed slightly as he asked.
“Stories of the outside world.”
The Black Wizard’s silver-gray eyes were remarkably clear. Looking down from the branch, he resembled a lonely watchman guarding a lighthouse.
After a long silence, he smiled faintly.
“Your soul is beautiful. It is golden. I like souls like that.”
Zong Mi’s heart trembled.
Only someone who had touched the domain of gods could see souls. The Black Wizard’s strength had to be at least level 97 or higher.
“So, tell me about the outside world.”
Before Zong Mi could react, the Black Wizard lifted him onto the tree branch.
So Zong Mi told stories.
He spoke of the white mountains of the Srika Range and the Eye of the Storm in the center of the Central Continent.
He spoke of the Void Fortress gathered by beastmen and the front lines where the Skaman Empire fought them.
He described the giant volcano sleeping in the western continent and the masterful craftsmanship of the dwarves in the east.
He even mentioned the legendary heart-shaped lake hidden deep within a forbidden mountain region sealed since the age of the gods.
After listening for a long time, the Black Wizard suddenly said:
“I want to hear your story.”
“My story?” Zong Mi was stunned.
He had climbed cliffs at sunset, moved through dangerous ruins, and fought undead alone through countless nights. When he first entered Descend, he had struggled like every other player to level up and survive.
There were many things he could not reveal—such as his search for the divine relics that should have belonged to him. So he chose safer stories and told those instead.
No matter what he said, the Black Wizard rarely interrupted.
Most of the time, he simply listened. Propping his head on one hand, he watched quietly while Zong Mi described the world.
Occasionally, Zong Mi could see his own reflection in those clear gray eyes.
It was nothing like the bloodthirsty monster of legend.
Days passed.
Eventually, Zong Mi simply stayed in the Black Forest.
He did not need to worry about food; level-80 liches respectfully served meals to him. He slept in a simple treehouse built by the Black Wizard.
The sight of several level-80-plus liches bowing respectfully to a mere level-30 player had left Zong Mi deeply shaken.
The treehouse itself was plain, though its interior was expanded by advanced spatial magic. Every shelf was filled with profound witchcraft texts.
“If you want to read any of these, tell me first. Some books are not very obedient.”
As he spoke, the Black Wizard casually picked up a book bound in human skin.
The moment he touched it, dark curse-light flared around the cover. He pressed it down with one hand, and the book instantly became docile.
When he handed it to Zong Mi, it behaved as quietly as an ordinary book.
Zong Mi had no words.
Somehow, he and the Black Wizard became friends.
Perhaps even each other’s only friend.
He later learned the Black Wizard’s name: Loxi.
For wizards, true names were precious. Powerful curses could be cast through them. Most wizards preferred false names.
Yet Loxi had told him his real one.
Zong Mi occasionally wondered whether anyone in the world would dare curse a being like Loxi anyway.
Once, he looked at the Black Wizard sitting on a dead branch. Loxi raised his eyes, and for a brief moment Zong Mi felt as though he were staring into the gaze of a mindless monster.
But that impression was wrong.
Zong Mi knew the truth.
Loxi was not the monster of legend.
He possessed an entire forest and the strongest magic in the world, yet he could not leave the Black Forest even a single step.
The forest was a cage.
And the reason he loved stories, the reason he had spared Zong Mi, was simply this:
He was lonely.
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