Chapter Nine: Reunion with the Liberty

“Ah!!!”
With a wild roar, the youth inside the massive iron cage tore the fanged hound in half.

A rain of blood showered down upon him, the blazing crimson surging with boundless strength from within.

He had finally succeeded.

In that razor’s edge moment between life and death.

Gong Hao could no longer remember how many times he’d hovered at death’s door in recent days. Eighteen days had felt like eighteen years of war.

Lancelot had indeed kept his word: even in Gong Hao’s most perilous moments, he never intervened to save him.

Because this was the path Gong Hao had chosen himself.

Surviving a single brush with death was not enough to master the use of battle energy.

At first, terror loomed over him like an unmovable mountain, so overwhelming that he’d forget to channel his energy at all, relying instead on brute strength to fight his foes. That was how he’d slain the dire wolf—smashing its skull with his fists, though its claws had ripped a deep gash in his abdomen.

Lancelot would wait by the cage with medicines in hand.

He never administered them until Gong Hao managed to walk out on his own.

Training in martial skills at the Alchemical Fortress had its advantages: injuries were quickly healed. Although Lancelot often grumbled, “A servant isn’t worth the price of a healing potion. If I didn’t need a good cook… These are from my private stash.”

Gong Hao doubted Lancelot’s words. He could sense the man actually liked him, though pride kept Lancelot from admitting it. Otherwise, why would he have agreed to teach Gong Hao the use of battle energy, and repeatedly treat his wounds with such rare medicine?

For Lancelot, it was a rare thing to see a young man so determined, so unflinching in the face of danger. Once, he had asked Gong Hao, “Your purpose in learning battle energy was to avoid death in the maw of the venomous serpent. Yet now you risk your life daily, fighting magical beasts far stronger than you. Each victory is narrow, each one due to luck. If you were to fall in the cage and never get up… I think you’d be better off not training at all. At least then, you wouldn’t have to fear death for another month.”

Gong Hao had answered, “To die in pursuit of something is not the same as dying in helplessness.”

Lancelot was pleased with that reply—and pressed the medicine into his wound a little harder, making Gong Hao grimace in pain.

After that first dire wolf, Gong Hao gradually learned to face his fear. With each fight, he began to keep calm in the chaos, to win victory at the lowest cost.

Most crucial of all, he began to try using battle energy instead of sheer force.

Today, just before the fanged hound could tear out his throat, Gong Hao finally felt that elusive energy within him surge at his command into his arm. In an instant, his hand gained immense strength. A faint sheen appeared on his forearm.

That shimmer made his skin harden, so that the beast’s fangs—capable of piercing bone—only left a deep puncture. In the very next moment, he gripped the beast’s legs and ripped it apart.

Seeing this, Lancelot nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Congratulations. You now possess the most basic mastery of battle energy. From today on, your task is to cultivate and refine your control. I will teach you nothing further.”

By then, Gong Hao could hardly hear him. He was utterly spent, collapsed in the cage, barely able to move a finger.

Days of relentless training had transformed the once delicate, doll-like golden-haired boy—adored by every woman—into a new, robust youth.

His handsome face now bore a scar left by the dire wolf.

His body was covered in wounds—bites and claw marks from magical beasts. Even his throat had a terrible scar, a reminder of when his windpipe was nearly severed.

Yet all the pain and risk had finally brought reward. Lying there, he could feel the energy coursing within him, slowly restoring his depleted strength.

“One last reminder: The beasts you’ve faced so far are the lowest rank—driven only by instinct, with little intelligence. All they know are pouncing and biting; that’s why you could win against stronger foes. I’ve noticed you’ve begun to adapt your tactics, observing their movements, dodging at the right moment. Clearly, your training in defense and evasion was not wasted. But higher magical beasts are smarter, with varied attacks. Some wield innate spells, making them much harder to deal with. So, if you ever face the Spotted Venom Serpent, be extremely careful—even with most of its abilities sealed, it still has some cunning left. Underestimate it, and you will die.”

Here, Lancelot sighed. “Magical beasts are, after all, only beasts. No matter how clever, they’ll never outwit humans. Remember, boy, only humans are your most terrifying foes. Mind yourself.”

With that, he turned and entered his little cabin.

Gong Hao gazed long at the sky, drawing a ragged breath. Tears slipped from the corner of his eyes.

A month passed quickly.

No matter how grueling his training, he could not neglect his duties.

Despite the hardship at the lakeside, Gong Hao never let his work fall behind. He remembered well the meaning and purpose behind it all.

Fortunately, the presence of battle energy was a boon. After a night’s rest, he would awaken refreshed and full of vigor.

As the month drew to a close, Lancelot declared he would no longer help Gong Hao collect the venomous serpent’s saliva. The moment Gong Hao mastered the use of battle energy, he was capable of subduing the serpent himself.

But Gong Hao did not cease his training. On the contrary, he continued to cook for Lancelot every day, then trained himself according to Lancelot’s teachings. The greatest talent of a warrior, Lancelot had told him, was diligence—and Gong Hao never forgot it.

Though Lancelot taught him no more, Gong Hao found that as long as he practiced as instructed, his energy grew ever stronger and more refined.

His strength increased, and his appetite too.

“My scar is fading?” One day, gazing into the lake, Gong Hao noticed the mark on his face had grown faint.

“That’s nothing special,” Lancelot said. “Battle energy isn’t just for power; it strengthens the body and speeds recovery. After a month of training, your energy is taking shape. If it couldn’t heal a little scar, we warriors would be doomed every time we got hurt.”

Another month slipped by in the blink of an eye.

Gong Hao sighed softly.

It had been two months since he’d come to Purgatory Isle.

Time, it seemed, flew.

Tomorrow—the Free Spirit was due to arrive.

Tomorrow, Andrew would bring a new batch of servants, and another group would be sent away...

At the thought, he bowed to Lancelot. “Master Lancelot, I may have to go to the port tomorrow to deliver goods. I won’t be able to come by.”

“Busy, are you? You manage the flowers in Zone 13, keep records in the library, deliver lists for me, help other servants, and train in battle energy—and now you’re running deliveries to the port? You really can’t sit still, can you?” Lancelot’s tone was full of mockery.

“I once worked as a servant in Baron Harden’s household. The baron told me that hard work always brings reward. So I work diligently, hoping the masters here will look upon me favorably.”

“A straightforward reason. But effort doesn’t always bring the outcome you hope for.”

“It’s better than sitting idle and regretting it later,” Gong Hao replied respectfully.

——————

When the Free Spirit docked this time, the black-robed mage Erdoris did not come. The golden-armored warrior Chakley, however, was still with the crew.

As Chakley led the newcomers ashore, Gong Hao and the other servants hauled up crates containing puppet soldiers. The boxes were heavy, exhausting for the young men, but Gong Hao’s training paid off—he carried one on his own.

Returning to the Free Spirit, Gong Hao felt a surge of emotion.

If only he could forget his quest for that secret and simply sail away.

But it was just a dream.

“Hey, you wretched servants, hurry up and get these things on board!” a guard shouted at them. Turning to a companion, he grumbled, “I can’t stand another second in this stinking place. How do these people live here?”

Gong Hao set his crate down and addressed the guard politely, “Sir.”

“What is it?” the guard snapped.

“Every person on Purgatory Isle carries a certain leaf. It absorbs odors very well. You see, smell is made up of airborne particles. Carrying one of these leaves will keep you free from the stench for a while.”

“Is that true?” the guard’s eyes widened.

Gong Hao produced several leaves. “I happen to have a few left. You’re welcome to try them.”

A guard took one, inhaled deeply, and exclaimed, “Heavens! I never imagined I could breathe fresh air in the Sea of Death. Alchemists really are incredible.”

The other guards eagerly took leaves as well.

Gong Hao remembered well their complaints on his first voyage—the air in the Sea of Death, they’d said, was enough to suffocate a man.

This time, he’d come prepared and easily won their favor.

Immediately, Gong Hao lowered his voice. “Please, could you keep it quiet? These leaves aren’t easy to get—they’re magical plants. I’m responsible for tending them, so I have access. If others found out and came asking, it would be difficult for me.”

One guard grinned. “Understood. Thank you, boy. How long do the leaves last?”

“A month at most, then they wither.”

“Could you bring us more every month?”

“I’ll try. I came to Purgatory Isle two months ago. I remember you from the Free Spirit—you were kind to me, so I’d like to repay you.”

Kind to a servant? They glanced at each other—who knew which of them it had been? But it was a good arrangement.

Gong Hao went on, “I’ll try to bring some each month. But I don’t know if it’ll always be you on this route. I’d rather not give them to anyone else; once picked, the leaves can’t be put back.”

Another guard quickly said, “Of course—it’ll always be us.”

“There are no other ships that come to Purgatory Isle?” Gong Hao asked, as if it were the most natural question.

The guard glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, “Listen, boy. Purgatory Isle is a top secret of the Empire. The fewer who know, the better. So, except for the Free Spirit, no ship ever comes here.”

Gong Hao lowered his head. “I understand. Thank you, sir.”

No ship but the Free Spirit ever came to Purgatory Isle. And the Free Spirit never took people away.

For twenty years, they’d brought people to the island but never taken a single one away.

They were here, somewhere on this isle.

They still existed...

He must find them!

Gong Hao roared silently to himself.

A different guard interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, kid, since you helped us, here’s some advice. If you’ve survived here two months, you must work hard. Whatever you do, never believe the alchemists’ lies. Never slack off, or Andrew will take you to that ‘other place’ of his. Just keep working, no matter how tough. Understand?”

For the sake of their own noses, the guards didn’t mind sharing a little “secret.”

“Thank you for your advice, sirs. Perhaps next time you come, I’ll have some small gifts for you,” Gong Hao replied quickly.

The guards were delighted. “Really, kid?”

“Of course. This is Purgatory Isle—no way everything is strictly watched.” Gong Hao glanced around and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard some things fetch a high price.”

“If you get them, we’ll make sure you’re well rewarded.”

“Thank you, sirs. I only hope you’ll bring some local specialties next time. There’s nothing fun or tasty on this island.”

“Alright, kid. As a reward, what do you want next month? We’ll bring it for you.”

“How about some energy crystals? I can use them for many things, but I can’t just take them from the island.”

“If you satisfy us next month, that’s easy.”

“I promise.”

“So do we.”

The Free Spirit departed, cargo aboard, vanishing as it had arrived.

Gong Hao watched it fade into the horizon, a mix of melancholy, anger, and pain in his eyes.