The park's construction was a success. After Li Wei obtained the formula from Elias, the third stage of his quest began: to concoct an ancient Magic Potion.
In a corridor late at night, dim floor lamps cast a faint glow.
Don Quixote, dressed in dark blue pajamas, was leaning on a golf club as if it were a hand-and-a-half sword.
His eyes were shut tight, his brow furrowed into a knot. A cold sweat of anxiety even beaded on his forehead.
"The Court Mage has sent me a secret message," he said with his eyes closed, his expression grave. "Intelligence reveals that the old King's flame of life is flickering in the wind, and his throne has begun to crack. All Knights, vassals, and even the Mercenaries who wallow in the mud must now make a choice."
"The time has come to choose a side, my friend," he said, slamming the golf club into the carpet with a muffled thud. "If we choose the wrong side, we will face the guillotine and an endless abyss."
