That thing, to be precise, was a Devil Race baron—or, more precisely, a Devil Race baron bound and fused together with a heap of machinery.
At a glance, it looked like a complex oversized wheelchair, but also like an operating table or some kind of amusement park ride. The poor Devil Race baron's hands and feet were secured to metal braces that still allowed a limited range of movement. His mouth was fitted with something like a horse's bit, shoved between his lips so that he could not even speak.
Though the Devil Race baron could not speak, the way he stared at Zhang Tie was as if he had seen a ghost.
With just one look at the Devil Race baron, Zhang Tie guessed what he was thinking.
Having suddenly appeared in the Castle of Black Iron, having suddenly seen so many people around Zhang Tie, the miraculous Palace Tree, Edward, Aziz, and the others—the Devil Race baron must have been bursting with questions. His head was probably spinning right now. He had no idea where he was, how much time had passed, or why he had fallen into the hands of a group of strangers.
Let him stay dizzy. Zhang Tie had no time to explain any of it to him anyway. In a couple of days, once he took him out of here for the temple blood sacrifice, he would probably be even more confused.
Zhang Tie had already returned to his original appearance. The Devil Race baron had never seen him before, and upon seeing this unfamiliar face, he struggled a few times as though he wanted to say something, but Zhang Tie ignored him.
"Fortress Master, what do you think of what we prepared for him?" Edward asked excitedly.
"Uh... this... not bad. It looks