A faerie soldier burst into the throne room. "My lord, the Astaran prince is on the verge of breaking free!"

The room was tinged with the scent of incense, blending its sweetness and earthiness.

The rays of the sun were harsh, touching his white armor that now gleamed as he stood before the ruler, and the sunlight scattered its light onto the crystal pillars. It almost matched the shimmers of their wings when the faeries flew above to attack the demon.

The moment Lord Muchen heard the news, he felt anxious in his heart, only to mutter to himself, "That cannot be..."

Lord Muchen was a middle-aged man who wore a long white robe that gave meaning to his authority. His hair, tied back in sections and as black as night, gave way just enough for a few strands to curl around his sharp features. A golden crown rested on his head; its twisted plant stem design symbolized his connection to nature and his role as ruler.

Muchen's hands shook without control. "Seal... that... demon," he urged. His breaths came in gasps, and the strain on his jaw was almost enough to shatter his teeth, his eyes bulging outwards. "Summon all the high gods. IMMEDIATELY!"

"Y-Yes, my lord." The soldier bowed again, only to be cut off as the earth shook with force, revealing just how much he had pissed off the demon. They both gasped in surprise.

"Hurry!" Muchen scowled in disdain. 'If Feng Deming is freed, our demise is inevitable.'

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