Mo Xuan writhed in agony as Ao Guang's blood magic tore his body from the inside out. But even through the pain, his mind was racing. Something wasn't adding up.
"Wait," he gasped, his voice strained as another blood spear pierced his arm. "How are you even here? The prison I had Gongfu place you in should have held you for centuries!"
Ao Guang's expression didn't change as he continued his methodical torture. "Prison? You mean that lovely little pocket dimension where I've been relaxing for the past few months?"
"Impossible," Mo Xuan snarled, trying to focus through the pain. "I designed that prison specifically to hold a Dragon King. The magical bindings were powered by—"
"By Gongfu's own corruption and self-hatred," Ao Guang finished calmly. "Yes, very clever. A prison that grew stronger the more my son despised himself for what he had become."
Another blood spear formed, this one aimed at Mo Xuan's leg. "But you made one crucial error in your design."
