The Demon-Suppressing Prison was the Azure Dragon.
Naturally, no daylight could be seen here.
Dozens of miles underground, everything was pitch-black, yet a faint glimmer showed ahead.
That glimmer lay beyond the Abyss, in the exceedingly distant Lower Realm. There was no telling whether it was the flames of the Nether River or an erupting volcano.
Gang Wind brushed the Nether Emperor's robes, making them rustle softly.
His once brilliantly colored clothes had long since turned black, though no one knew when.
He was somewhat short, yet his bearing was stately, as though he were a born monarch.
The Nether Emperor gazed quietly at the Abyss. Beyond it lay his homeland, the river of his childhood, his loyal subjects.
He gazed with such deep affection.
Deep affection was a kind of power.
This invisible power shut out the harm of the Gang Wind, binding him tightly to the Lower Realm beyond the Abyss.
Bolstered by this power, the Nether Emperor became an iron anchor, keeping a great ship moored quietly in a raging ocean; he became a nail, pinning the Azure Dragon's tail firmly in the depths of the earth.
After an unknown length of time, tremors from the surface reached this place, and loose stones pattered down the surrounding rock walls.
Somewhat reluctantly, the Nether Emperor took another look across the Abyss, then turned toward the long, dark passage.
The Gang Wind grew violent. The old man formed from the Azure Dragon's Divine Soul arrived with the wind and came before the Nether Emperor.
The old man was now covered in blood, his clothes tattered, looking utterly wretched.
Looking at the Nether Emperor, the old man wore a somewhat strange expression. "So you really did get out."
"Yes," the Nether Emperor said with a smile.
The old man covered