"What's going on?"
At the altar of his territory, Zhao Lun stood frozen, Pask's skull in his hands.
Just moments ago, Zhao Lun had attempted to forcibly take Pask under his command. But to his surprise, he couldn't imprint Pask's soul mark at all. Refusing to accept it, Zhao Lun tried again—only to trigger the altar's backlash, dimming Pask's soul-flame by several shades.
"Hmph, truly ignorant, my lord. Don't you know? Any undead above level five can't have a soul mark imprinted unless they willingly accept it," Pask sneered, his tone mocking despite the pain.
"Oh? Is that so? Then why didn't you say so earlier and save yourself the trouble?" Zhao Lun lifted Pask's skull, speaking in a cold, flat voice.
"Would you have believed me, my lord? Either way, I wasn't getting out of this without suffering a little. So why waste the effort?"
"Pretty clever." Zhao Lun let out a low chuckle, fixing Pask with a deep, unwavering stare. "Seems we can have a proper discussion now."
"Discussion? Heh… and what exactly would we discuss?" Pask's soul-flame locked onto Zhao Lun's, the faint curl of a mocking smile in his tone.
A glint flashed in Zhao Lun's eyes. "We discuss whether you want to live… or die."
"Obviously I want to live," Pask replied without hesitation.
"Good. Honest, too." Zhao Lun nodded approvingly. Then, in the next instant, his soul-flame flared brightly. "Then here are your only two options: become my subordinate… or die."
This time, Zhao Lun truly meant it. Seeing Orlis and Felis in such miserable condition earlier had already sparked his killing intent. But unlike the mindless undead he had destroyed before, this one still had intelligence—and Zhao Lun, being human, found it hard to kill him outright. Besides, killing wasn't the perfect solution; having Pask serve under him would be far better.
But with the forced method failing, the killing intent began to surge again.
"Oh! So fierce!" Pask showed not a trace of fear, his soul-flame challenging Zhao Lun directly.
"So, you've made your choice?" Zhao Lun raised his left hand, and a black Magic Missile formed instantly.
"Of course."
"Then say it—life or death!"
Pask glanced lazily at the magic missile, his tone light. "Life, of course. Didn't I already say so? My lord's memory seems a bit poor."
"Good. Then imprint your soul mark." Zhao Lun's voice was icy.
Pask's skull shook slightly. "No, no, my lord, you misunderstand. My choice isn't to become your subordinate. I choose… a third option."
"A third option?" Zhao Lun froze for a moment, then his expression darkened. "Are you toying with me?"
"How could I? I wouldn't dare—my little life is still in your hands," Pask said smoothly.
Zhao Lun's gaze turned colder, the magic missile in his hand flickering dangerously.
"My lord, as I said, I have plenty to trade for my life." Pask's tone carried a hint of smugness, as though he had already read Zhao Lun's mind.
"Is that so?" Zhao Lun suddenly loosened his grip.
"What are you—ah!"
The sudden drop made Pask cry out. Before he could finish, his skull hit the floor with a sharp crack.
"Nothing much. I just lost interest in making trades with you. Compared to bargaining or recruiting you, killing you suddenly feels much more entertaining." The magic missile in Zhao Lun's hand bobbed up and down, ready to strike at any moment, his white soul-flame cold and unfeeling.
"You think that will scare me?" Pask sneered.
Boom!
The magic missile hit the ground beside Pask's skull, carving a small crater and sending his head bouncing three or four meters away.
"You think I'm bluffing? Laughable." Zhao Lun let out a cold laugh, his skeletal hand twitching to launch another magic missile, which struck again beside Pask, blasting him back several more meters.
Zhao Lun formed yet another magic missile, walking slowly toward him. Placing one foot on Pask's skull, he said:
"Fool. Don't you know? If you want to bait someone, you have to offer a little taste first. You haven't told me anything, so your so-called bargaining chip means nothing to me. Understand?"
"Oh? So I need to say something first, is that it?" Pask's soul-flame flickered—was that relief?
Boom!
A magic missile exploded barely fifteen centimeters above his skull, the shockwave slamming into him while Zhao Lun's foot held him in place.
Zhao Lun bent down and lifted the dazed Pask.
"I'm not interested in knowing anything right now. What I want most… is to kill you. Your greatest crime was laying hands on Orlis and Felis. Be glad you didn't kill them—otherwise, I'd have ended you already."
"Killing me won't benefit you at all!" For the first time, panic flickered in Pask's soul-flame.
"Benefit? Why should I need one? Killing you will improve my mood. Isn't that better than any so-called benefit?" Zhao Lun shook his head.
"You—!" Pask finally grew anxious, but it seemed too late. Zhao Lun tossed him into the air, forming yet another magic missile.
"You can't kill me!" Pask shouted in alarm.
Whoosh!
A magic missile grazed his skull.
"Ah, missed. Let's try again."
Another missile formed.
"No! Don't kill me!"
Whoosh!
Again, the projectile brushed past him.
"Don't you want to know how the last grand lord died?!" Pask finally blurted out.
"No interest."
Another missile whizzed past.
"Then do you know… that you will soon die just like him?!" Terror filled Pask's voice.
"Empty threats." Zhao Lun didn't even pause.
"I can make your strength grow at incredible speed!"
The magic missile vanished from Zhao Lun's hand. He caught the falling skull. "Now that… we can talk about."