The desolate world of hell was a barren wasteland, filled with the wails of ghosts and howls of wolves, a terrifying scene that chilled the heart.
Clad in white, his cold and aloof demeanor, coupled with an icy expression, sent shivers down the spine.
He raised his light sword, and wherever he went, the demons of hell scattered in fear, none daring to stand in his way.
Only a dutiful fallen angel, transformed into a massive black serpent, blocked his path as he reached the final gate.
On the gate were the words: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Expressionless, he stared at the colossal creature before him, raising his light sword high.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk! No, this won't do! This is my most beloved pet. If it gets hurt, I won't let you leave this place."
A sharp voice reached his ears. Looking up, he saw a man, about thirty years old, wearing a crown, clad in obsidian armor, and holding a scepter, standing atop the head of the black serpent, which was several times his size.
The man lightly patted the serpent's head, and the proud creature obediently lowered it, allowing the majestic man to step down onto the ground.
Even coiled and bowing its head, the black serpent exuded an aura of danger and ferocity, its cold, sinister vertical pupils fixed on him.
Gazing at the demon standing before him, he lowered his sword hand, and the light sword vanished.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," he gestured toward the man. "I'm here to find you!"
"Find me? Do you even know who I am?" A glint of sharpness flashed in the man's eyes.
He sneered, "I know you. I know you're Satan, the Lord of Hell's Demons!"
The surprise on the man's face flickered briefly before vanishing. "How did you know?"
"Instinct."
"Instinct?!" The man squinted, then burst into laughter. "Not bad, not bad! You're the first to recognize me as Satan upon meeting me. Truly impressive, Fox King! Tell me, what do you want? If I know the answer, I'll tell you."
"I'm looking for someone." A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, but he continued to explain his purpose for coming to hell.
"Looking for a dead person, huh?" A smile spread across Satan's face as he rested one hand on the serpent's head, gently stroking it. "Quiet! Tell me their name."
"…I don't know."
"Fox King, are you toying with me? You don't even know the name of the person you're looking for?" Satan raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering. "No matter, I don't care to know. Tell me their birth date, time of death, cause of death, and place of death."
"She died around 9 a.m. on December 1st this year. The cause was being accidentally killed by a hunter in the mountains. The place was the snowy mountain." As he spoke, his usually expressionless face betrayed deep, hidden pain.
Satan's sharp gaze fixed on him, his smile deepening with understanding.
With a wave of his hand, a scroll appeared, floating before Satan.
"Let me see… December 1st this year…" Satan muttered as he scanned the scroll.
His eyes, fixed on the scroll, visibly betrayed his growing anxiety.
"Ah! Here it is!" Satan clapped his hands suddenly.
The sharp sound made his chest tighten.
"But, well…" Satan looked at him, shaking his head with a hint of helplessness. "This person bore no malice in her heart and didn't come to the realm of hell. She has followed the laws of life and death and has found eternal rest."
His head drooped in disappointment, the light in his eyes dimming to ash.
"However… in about one thousand years, you'll have another chance. God granted her one request: she will relive the same journey once more. If her heart's desire cannot be fulfilled, she will vanish forever from the universe. Fox King, whether you can seize this opportunity depends on you."
"Then she…"
"Are you about to ask where she'll be born, when, and what her name will be in one thousand years?" Satan interrupted before he could finish.
With another wave of his hand, the scroll vanished from sight.
"Yes," he answered with absolute certainty.
"To be honest, I do know these things. But…" Satan paused, "they are bound by the laws of the universe, and I cannot tell you! However, I can give you some hints—"
"What are they?" he couldn't help but ask.
"The person you're looking for was originally a servant in a merchant's household, enduring endless humiliation. After escaping, she suffered greatly and reached the Northern Desert, where she had only one day left to live. Yet, by a twist of fate, she saved you with her life. At that time, you were the future Fox King. You sought vengeance for her, even willingly burning yourself in flames to pay the price of your life. However, as a fugitive slave, even with your efforts to honor her, she could not receive the baptism of paradise. So, God gave her one thousand years to purify her soul. After one thousand years, she must relive the same journey. She will still be a servant in a merchant's household, and her appearance will remain exactly the same!"
For some reason, he lowered his head, silent.
Satan gazed at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Fox King, we are both lords with long lives. One thousand years is not long. One day, you'll thank me. Tell me your name."
He hesitated, then resolutely raised his head and answered, "Choice."
"Choice?" Satan repeated, frowning. "What a strange name! Why did you choose it?"
"Everything I have now is the result of my choices."
"Hmm, I see!" Satan nodded in understanding. "But it's still a strange name. Choice… why not just call yourself Arthur?"
"Arthur?" he echoed.
"Yes, what do you think?" Satan looked at him with enthusiasm.
"Arthur!" He nodded solemnly, deciding on his name.
Standing among the crowd, he was aloof, cold, and otherworldly, drawing countless glances. Yet he ignored their stares, moving through the throng with an icy demeanor.
Occasionally, he would pause, as if searching for something.
At this moment, he stood before the hall of the maid trading market, his cold gaze sweeping over the maids waiting in the corners to be bought and sold. Unable to find the one he sought, he was about to leave when a stout man called out to him.
"Sir, are you looking to buy a maid? There are several more in that room over there! Want to take a look? They're all hardworking—some can even read, and there are a few pretty ones too!" The trafficker chuckled, his small eyes narrowing with a glint that was distinctly unsettling.
Arthur remained silent, merely gesturing for the man to lead the way.
The trafficker, thrilled, rubbed his hands eagerly and hurried ahead.
As soon as Arthur stepped into the room the man had mentioned, he sensed something was off, but he remained composed, calmly walking inside.
Moments later, the door he'd entered through slammed shut. The seemingly empty room suddenly filled with a crowd of people.
Arthur stood silently in a corner, his face expressionless.
"Hahaha, boys, look at this prime catch! Come see what I've found!" the trafficker who led him in boasted to the others, their leering gazes fixed on Arthur, dripping with vulgar intent.
"Boss, he's a fine one, but a bit too cold!" one of the men jeered.
Another man burst out with a crude remark, "Cold now, huh? Wait till we all have our way with him—he'll be begging for more!"
The room erupted in lascivious laughter. Arthur stood motionless amidst the crowd, as if their words had nothing to do with him, letting their unrestrained cackling fill the air. Finally, he spoke, "I want to see your maids."
"Oh, God, he doesn't even realize he's trapped here and still thinks he's buying maids!" The trafficker smirked, sauntering toward him. "You want maids? We don't have any right now, but once we're done with you, we'll sell you off—then you can look at male or female servants to your heart's content—"
Before the trafficker could finish, his head flew across the room.
The men in the room were stunned by the sudden turn of events. Before they could react, before the blood could even spill from the first man's severed neck, their heads were sliced off one by one, detached from their bodies.
Arthur retracted his light sword. Ignoring the headless corpses and pooling blood, he spoke in a cold, clear voice, "Humans…"
For hundreds of years, he had tirelessly searched the world for her, never stopping.
Storms and rain had come countless times, and he had stood in the slanting wind and drizzle, letting the rain wash away his exhaustion.
If not for the belief in his heart, this suffocating loneliness would have broken him long ago.
This aimless search was nothing short of torment…
Raindrops slid down his cheeks—was it tears or rain?
Opening his eyes, he saw a sky shrouded in dark clouds, the horizon obscured.
In the misty haze, a solitary figure stood—bleak, silent, weathered by time.
His resolute steps pressed forward, but he suddenly paused, whipping around.
The abrupt movement startled a small beggar trailing behind him, who looked up at him with uncertainty, trembling under his cold gaze.
Staring at the filthy, disheveled beggar, barely reaching his thigh, Arthur asked in a low voice, "Why are you following me?"
The ragged little beggar lifted his head nervously, gazing at the man who, despite his icy expression, was strikingly handsome. In a quivering voice, he stammered, "I—I—I'm not—It's you, you—you're looking for someone, right? I can help you find them. It's—easier with more people. It's—convenient. I just want one steamed bun."
"More people make it easier to find someone?" Arthur repeated the little beggar's words, a flicker of joy passing through his cold, desolate eyes.
Crouching down in front of the beggar, he said, "I don't need your help, but I still owe you my thanks. Hold out your hands—I'll give you something."
The bewildered beggar, caught off guard by the sudden charm of the man before him, obediently extended a pair of grimy hands.
As he did, a flash of golden light shimmered, and several gleaming gold leaves appeared in his palms.
Even more astonishing, when the beggar finally tore his gaze from the gold to look ahead, the ethereal, otherworldly figure had vanished like the wind.
In the wilderness, a man and a fox faced each other in a standoff.
The fox assumed a defensive stance, its growls and hisses a continuous warning.
Arthur stood calmly before it, gazing at it with an icy, unyielding stare.
The fox's roars grew quieter under his overwhelming presence, gradually subsiding as awe overtook it. Finally, it bowed its head in submission.
Satisfied, Arthur gave a soft hum of approval. With a wave of his hand, a hazy mist of light enveloped the fox, and faintly, it began to take on a human form.
In a low, solemn voice, Arthur declared, "From now on, your surname is Moore, and your name is Solar. Remember, I demand your absolute loyalty!"
No one knew when the Moore family first emerged, but they appeared as if from nowhere, suddenly rising to become the unchallenged overlords of the vast Northern Desert.
Since its rise, the Moore clan endured countless years and historical upheavals, firmly maintaining their dominion over the Northern Desert.
To outsiders, the Moore estate was majestic, grand, awe-inspiring, and shrouded in mystery.
To Arthur, it was desolate, cold, and when night fell, it only deepened his loneliness.
Under moonlight, in candlelight, he stood alone, the solitude chilling and suffocating.
In the empty room, countless images he had painted with ink and brush surrounded him.
But tonight, he didn't want to pour his longing into ink and paper.
Holding a small wooden board, he carefully carved with a knife, his endless yearning and desire etched into it.
Did he have a heart? Of course he did. But for now, it remained here, waiting—waiting for his love to appear.