ven by Brutols' will.

Clearing the floor, a decrepit old man wielding a staff emerged, akin to a mad scientist. His ragged appearance and golden teeth added to the image of grotesque authority. Opening a jar, the old man revived the mosquitoes, shocking Brutols with this bizarre revival method.

“Damn, so this old mad scientist is the creator of these cockroach and mosquito people,” Brutols thought. The old man, sensing Brutols' thoughts, laughed maniacally, boasting, “Yes, young one, you're correct. I created these beings, but they're far from perfect. One day, I’ll craft the ultimate lifeform, and I use the samples I seize from villages. Unfortunately, none were suitable. However, you... you might be the perfect specimen. Wahahaha!”

The old man’s arrogance irked Brutols, who knew he hadn’t yet revealed his full strength. Letting white flames—the hottest kind—ignite around him, he watched as the old man uncomfortably reacted, then applied a strange ointment that grew disgusting protective scales on his skin, offering heat resistance.

Brutols wasn't in a rush to attack, preferring to gauge the old man’s capabilities. Summoning a swarm of hideous fly-men, the old man set them after Brutols. These buzzing pests circled, looking for an opening, yet reluctant to engage directly.

Brutols, maintaining his composure, prepared to bring swift retribution on these creations and their twisted creator. Each movement predicted, each attack planned with the calm efficiency born from brutal training and relentless focus. The fight promising, Brutols stood ready to obliterate all opposition in this grotesque tower.

Chapter 7: The Pursuit and Escape of the Lich (3)

Brutols, of course, wouldn't let these fly-men easily attack him. He expanded his white flames to their maximum extent, melting the fly-men effortlessly. Brutols' white flames were his ultimate weapon; if they failed to melt something, it would be an unprecedentedly rare and powerful creature. But Brutols hadn’t encountered many adversaries of such a level. The old man’s facial expression betrayed his astonishment, never having seen flames like Brutols’ blue ones before, let alone these white ones. Brutols' unique attack style only added to the old man's confusion. The mosquitoes assembled by the old man were pierced like paper sheets by Brutols' white flames, offering no resistance.

“Damn it! You’ve killed all my experiments! I will kill you!” The old man, full of rage, trembled with anger, his gold-filled mouth shaking. His protective scales began to flake away, unable to withstand the heat of Brutols' white flames. In desperation, he whistled, summoning a peculiar chimera from his quarters. This humanoid chimera had a human body but three heads—a bird's, a lion's, and a lizard's—and a lizard’s ta

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