Abyss Fifth Layer, the crimson palace of the Blood Tear Duke, Asmond.
When Uphemia stepped into this domain, the air immediately filled with a nauseatingly sweet scent of blood.
It was the pure essence of despair fermented and concentrated over millennia.
The sky was like a giant blood-red amber, sealing the entire domain in an eternal twilight.
On the ground, spire-like structures rose jaggedly like the teeth of a demon.
The walls of these buildings were made from living bones, with networks of pulsating veins crawling across the surfaces.
Each time new pain emerged in the domain, these veins greedily absorbed it, channeling the essence to the massive blood pool at the palace’s center.
Most horrifying of all was the ubiquitous "Garden of Sorrow."
The Blood Tear flowers emitted a sound like a baby’s wail when they sensed pain, their petals solidified from real tears;
The leaves of Despair Grass naturally bore words from the final words of suicides;
And those seemingly beautiful roses, in truth, were cultivated from the hearts of lovers, each whispering broken vows of love.
Uphemia walked slowly through this twisted garden, her white hair fluttering lightly in the blood-red glow.
The face of the White-haired Witch was as cold as ice, yet her left hand trembled slightly.
This was the manifestation of her suppressing some complex emotion within.
"The last time I came to a place like this, it was..."
She recalled in her heart, involuntarily bringing up fragments of childhood memories.
Those painful years in the King of Blood’s laboratory, filled each day with needles, reagents, and endless transformation pain.
The identity of the Blood Moon Clan Heir was merely a grand facade for the outside world.
The palace’s main gate was made of pure black obsidian, with reliefs of thousands of crying faces carved on its surface.
As Uphemia approached, these faces turned to her, mouthing their respective pains.
Guarding the entrance were two high-level Blood Race members.
They had a form similar to humans.
But their skin was as pale as paper, and their thoracic cavity completely transparent, clearly showing a dark purple heart beating inside.
"Halt!" The Blood Race guard on the left extended its arm, its voice chilling as the night wind:
"Miss Uphemia? How is it that you’re here at this time..."
Its words were cut short, for at this moment Uphemia was exuding an unprecedented aura of danger.
"Move aside."
The voice of the White-haired Witch was calm like a still lake, yet the authority within it made the two Blood Race members instinctively tremble.
It was the absolute authority from the depths of her bloodline: "I want to see Asmond, now, immediately."
The Blood Race guards exchanged looks, an indescribable terror welling up in their hearts.
This feeling was like the natural submission lower Blood Race members felt when facing the original ancestors.
"This... Miss Uphemia, I apologize for being frank..." The guard on the right tried to maintain its politeness, but its voice had begun to tremble:
"The Duke is currently undertaking an important blood ceremony, not convenient to receive guests at the moment. If you could wait a moment..."
Before it could finish, a terrifying aura of bloody killing intent washed over it.
Uphemia’s eyes began to emit an eerie glow, no longer the previous dark red, but a pure black as deep as the Abyss.
Even more frightening, the air behind her started to distort as if some presence was observing through a medium.
"I don’t have that much time to waste, get out!"
Saying this, she slowly raised her right hand.
On that slender palm, dense blood-red runes suddenly appeared, exuding a chilling scent.
The two guards, sweating profusely, were just about to say something more...
The next moment, the main gate of the crimson palace opened by itself with the sound of grinding stone.
Out of it naturally came the Blood Tear Duke, Asmond himself.
This ruler of the Abyss Fifth Layer had the typical appearance of a Western noble.
Tall and slender, with features handsome as an ancient sculpture, his golden hair groomed meticulously.
He wore an ornate deep crimson robe, embroidered with countless tiny blood-red roses, each swaying gently in the breeze as if alive.
"Oh, my dear little Uphemia..."
Asmond’s voice carried a classical rolling R, his eyes full of wariness:
"What wind brings you to my remote little domain? And it seems... you’re not in the best of moods?"
As he spoke, he carefully observed the unusual changes on Uphemia’s body.
The intense sense of threat she brought couldn’t possibly originate from a Morning Star Level little wizard, could it be...
"Cut the nonsense, Asmond."
Uphemia directly interrupted his pleasantries:
"Your recent delay in the Blood Dew supply to the Blood Moon Clan is what brings me here."
Hearing this accusation, the expression on the Blood Tear Duke’s face subtly changed.
He was of course aware, as it was the result of his intentional actions.
"Oh? The Blood Dew supply issue?"
His tone remained gentle, but his words carried a clear hint of perfunctoriness:
"My dear Uphemia, you must understand, the production of Blood Dew takes time, and recently we’ve encountered some... technical difficulties in acquiring raw materials."
This was clearly a diplomatic excuse.
Within the Blood Tear Duke’s domain, there existed the largest "Sorrow Farm" in the entire Abyss, specialized in cultivating various emotionally rich creatures and harvesting their pain and despair.