Sorcery and magic

The sorcerer clenched his fists with each blow, his body absorbing the strikes like tempered steel. Not a single grunt escaped his lips, his stoic resolve unyielding even as his body began to fail him. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, pooling beneath him as his vision blurred. He swayed, his strength waning, until finally, his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the cold, stone floor, his blood seeping into the cracks.

Zi Han, the infamous general, loomed over him, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the broken sorcerer. His sharp eyes were cold, unfeeling, as he watched the man beneath him struggle to hold on to consciousness. He stood there for a moment, his armor glinting faintly in the dim torchlight of the dungeon.

"Someone come patch him up," Zi Han commanded, his voice calm yet laced with authority. "And make sure he wakes up as soon as possible. I'm not done with him yet."

Without sparing another glance at the fallen sorcerer, Zi Han turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon, his boots echoing ominously against the stone floor. His armor and hands were smeared with the sorcerer's blood, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

Moments later, a pair of doctors rushed in. They worked swiftly, binding the sorcerer's wounds and stabilizing him. The cold floor served as his makeshift bed, and though the sorcerer's breathing was faint, he clung to life.

The next day, the sorcerer stirred, his body aching as he blinked against the faint light seeping into the dungeon. His throat was parched, his limbs heavy, but he was alive. A servant entered the cell, carrying a tray of food.

"Here," the servant said quietly, placing the tray on the floor before him.

The sorcerer managed a weak smile as he reached for the food. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady.

The servant said nothing, quickly leaving the cell and locking the heavy door behind them. Luo Xian, the sorcerer, was left alone once more.

He sat in silence, the faint clinking of chains echoing in the room as he shifted. His mind was a storm of thoughts, anger and despair swirling together. He stared at the tray of food, untouched, as his lips curled into a bitter smile.

"Cursed general," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with venom. "Does he think locking me in here, letting me bleed out on this filthy floor, will make me help his wretched country?"

He crossed his arms, his expression darkening as he leaned back against the cold, damp wall. His thoughts turned to Zi Han, his fury growing with each passing moment. He cursed the man's name, his lineage, his very existence.

But beneath the anger, a flicker of determination sparked. Luo Xian was no ordinary man. He was a sorcerer, one who had survived countless trials and betrayals. He would not let this be his end.

As the hours passed, his anger cooled into calculated resolve. He studied his surroundings, his sharp mind already working on a plan. The chains that bound him were strong, but he knew their limits. The guards were vigilant, but even the most watchful could be deceived.

Lying back on the cold, unyielding floor, Luo Xian closed his eyes, his mind racing. The dungeon was silent save for the faint dripping of water and the occasional footsteps of guards. He would wait, bide his time, and when the moment came, he would strike.

Zi Han thought he had broken him, but Luo Xian was far from defeated. This dungeon would not hold him forever. And when he escaped, the cursed general would learn the true power of the man he had tried to subjugate