"Dad… Dad."

"What is it, dummy?"

"Scared… scared."

"Scared? What’s there to be—fine, I’ll carry you."

Baiyi reached out and lifted Lian Ye. She’d been sitting beside his thigh, hands clamped over her ears, head wrapped in a black blindfold.

"Still scared?"

"Not… scared."

"Warm… warm."

Lian Ye’s petite, soft body curled tightly in Baiyi’s arms, pressing close to him.

"Good. And don’t tear off that blindfold."

Baiyi gazed at Lian Ye clinging to him. A faint, inexplicable cuteness tugged at him. He held her tighter.

"Silence…"

Baiyi murmured the word, low and soft.

A faint magical ripple swirled around him.

Quickly, a pale purple layer enveloped them both.

This magic resembled silencing spells.

But it wasn’t ordinary.

Its true effect forced all below the caster’s rank to kneel, mouths shut, heads bowed in silent submission.

Only a Saint Tier Sorcerer could unleash such power. Even then, it demanded a full minute of chanting—never instant like this.

Yet Baiyi confined it to a few centimeters around them.

Using a Saint Tier spell as a silencer? Unheard of.

"I hate magic. Doesn’t mean I can’t use it…"

Baiyi sighed, a trace of sadness flickering in his eyes as he watched the Saint Tier barrier.

"Ahhh! No! No!"

"Shut your mouth, filth! Kneel properly!"

Crack! Crack! Crack!

"Ahhh!"

Squelch!

"My hand! My hand!"

Piercing screams echoed through the dark, grim lower floors of the tower.

A stark contrast to the warmth of the corridor where Baiyi walked.

The sharp crack of whips and the wet slice of blades on flesh rang out.

Icy droplets pattered on the shadowy tower hallway.

Torture continued between prisoners and interrogators.

These were mortals imprisoned for unspeakable crimes.

They wailed now under lashes and pain, pitiful and broken.

But no one pitied them.

Everyone here carried at least a hundred lives on their hands—twisted monsters, madmen.

Their minds warped beyond reason, obsessed with chaos or forbidden cults, doing anything for power.

Interrogation served little purpose.

But their suffering gave peace to the dead and closure to grieving families.

"Dad… Dad."

"I’m… scared."

Curled in Baiyi’s arms, Lian Ye realized she couldn’t sense anything with her energy.

Her eyes were blindfolded, vision gone.

No outside sounds reached her.

Only Baiyi’s soft footsteps, his steady breaths, and the warmth of his chest.

"It’s fine. Almost there."

Baiyi’s cold eyes swept over prisoners writhing in narrow, pitch-black cells.

No pity. No mercy.

He looked back at Lian Ye in his arms.

His gaze softened, filled with tenderness.

"Just a little longer."

*Just a little longer, dummy.*

*I won’t let you see those dark, filthy things.*

*Better if you never know…*