Chapter 488: The Usurping Covenant

Consciousness returned from the Mowang space to reality.

Dorothy met the luxurious floating car speeding toward her, then the door opened, revealing the evil-child girl suspended by a tangle of mechanical arms inside.

Seeing this, the Zhaimonv retracted her feathered wings and plunged straight into the car, sitting opposite the little girl.

The door closed, and the floating car began heading back toward the previous Mowang research institute.

Inside, Dorothy crossed her legs in a supremely casual posture, sizing up the evil-child girl who had stopped struggling altogether, then spoke.

"What should I do with you?"

Though she spoke with a light laugh, her eyes held little amusement.

Opposite her, the little girl suddenly shuddered—she felt cold.

It wasn't physical chill, but an icy dread born of utter terror, raising every hair and drenching her in sweat.

After all, she could read minds; even if she couldn't easily read this terrifying clown girl's thoughts like she could others', she could still sense her general emotions.

At this moment, she sensed from the clown girl an emotion colder than winter ice.

If she didn't answer properly, she might really be killed.

In this instant, Arti understood her situation with absolute clarity.

No longer could she afford to feign death—she dared not continue slacking off, so she thought seriously for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

"I still have value—I can help you rebuild a Mowang core. I've secretly memorized its structure."

The evil-child girl said this.

If she were facing anyone else—especially those overly kind-hearted people—she might have chosen to spin a tragic story, leveraging her youth to win sympathy and mercy.

But this time, her instinct told her that doing so would mean certain death.

She could only nervously watch the clown girl, anxiously awaiting her decision—but the other said nothing, merely stared at her with eyes like those fixed on a corpse.

Fortunately, just as Arti was about to crack under the pressure and burst into tears, the other finally nodded.

"Fine. Seems you're not completely beyond redemption. I'll give you a chance to make amends."

Dorothy suppressed the boiling kill-instinct within her and spoke thus.

Though the Zhaimonv wasn't one who favored violence to solve problems, she didn't reject it when necessary.

Earlier, she might have had the patience to play games with this brat—but now, with the Mowang core already seized by the angels and her side at a disadvantage, facing the very culprit behind all this loss, she had no patience left.

If this brat dared to be insolent now, she'd have to be insolent in her next life.

Though she appeared a child by age, most people encountering such a tragic, wayward child would seek to reform them, hoping to guide them back to the right path.

But Dorothy didn't think that way. To her, being underage wasn't a get-out-of-jail-free card—she believed in absolute equality.

Minor mistakes could be forgiven with a lesson, but what this creature did—using angel feathers to summon angels—constituted treason.

That couldn't be brushed off with "she's just a child."

Witches hated betrayal most of all—and so did she.

Of course, if someone else were here, perhaps seeing this evil-child's adorable little face and pitiful expression, they might let their morals bend to her looks and feel pity.

But this beauty trick had zero effect on the Zhaimonv —after all, no beauty could outshine herself.

She'd held back her kill-instinct solely because this kid's ability was genuinely useful.

Since the Mowang core had already been taken by the Radiant Divine Nation, no amount of regret or blame would change that—what mattered now was planning the future.

Only an evolved Mowang could counter an evolved Mowang.

Since the Mowang core was originally built by their side, losing one just meant building another. Though they could no longer hope for a dimensional strike using the evolved Mowang, at least they could prevent themselves from being struck down—both sides would merely return to cold war stalemate.

Rebuilding the Mowang core required this evil-child girl's ability.

Of course, this was merely a bonus—not essential. Now that Dorothy had awakened, crafting a new Mowang core was merely a matter of thought for her; the difficulty wasn't great.

After all, without the "Covenant of the Heart," using the "Demon Covenant" worked just as well.

So this kid's compliance had saved her life—if she'd been defiant, Dorothy might already have crushed her, tossed her out of the car, and dropped her from above, turning her into "Evil-Child Sauce."

Though she still wore the appearance of a soft, cute girl, her body had long since undergone full Mozhuang transformation—her metal content far exceeded safe limits, her weight reaching a terrifying figure. Had she not continuously used anti-gravity magic to offset it, this floating car would have crashed from overload.

Hmph, suddenly realizing she and Sophieelia were truly a matched pair—each had violated one of girls' two great taboos: weight and age.

As this thought distracted her, Dorothy's anger largely faded. She looked again at the evil-child girl, then pulled out a parchment and began drafting a contract.

She couldn't trust this Tianshenghuaipei —though she seemed obedient now, who knew if she'd stay that way? Better to impose some restrictions.

Didn't she love making covenants? Then let her make one.

The Zhaimonv swiftly drafted a standard slave indenture and tossed it to the other.

"Sign your name."

She said coldly.

She'd always disliked slave indentures—even when acquiring familiars or servant armies, she used equal covenants. But now, Dorothy understood: this evil-child was the type who, given a sliver of kindness, would grow bold and think you easy to exploit.

She was the kind who pointed a gun at good people.

Opposite her, Arti—finally freed from the mechanical arms—rubbed her hands, picked up the parchment, and glanced at it. Her eyes widened in shock.

"This isn't the game rule we agreed on! You said I'd just be your sidekick—we could've used my original covenant. I never break covenants."

Since the icy, deathly threat had vanished, the little girl felt confident again and tried to bargain.

But she wasn't lying this time—she truly never broke covenants. Since she'd lost the hide-and-seek game, she'd naturally become a proper accessory.

So...

"This extra indenture is an insult to my dignity." (This was a lie.)

Arti declared firmly.

In response, Dorothy merely narrowed her eyes and glanced at this troublemaking little girl.

"Fine, fine. I admit I have no dignity. I'll sign. Why are you yelling?"

Arti pulled her neck back, then calmly bit her finger and signed her name on the parchment.

The moment she finished, the Zhaimonv felt the covenant activate and finally exhaled.

"At last, I've dumped this time bomb into an explosion-proof pit. Now I can breathe a little easier."

Thinking this, Dorothy waved her hand—the signed contract flew back into her grasp.

The Zhaimonv opened the contract, glanced casually at it—and...

Then she shot upright, eyes wide with disbelief.

What the hell did I just see on this contract?

There, at the signature line, were several crooked, scribbled characters—ugly as a dog's crawl—clearly the evil-child girl's signature.

The handwriting didn't matter. What mattered was the name those characters formed—it was terrifyingly familiar.

Astimoth.

A name known throughout the witch world.

For it represented the current supreme ruler of the witch world, the creator of the Mowang, the sovereign of the Abyssal Hell, the eternal lord of all demons, the guardian of covenants and commerce, the master of pleasure and art, the king of pranks and conspiracies—the Demon King.

Shit, I just forced the Demon King to sign a slave indenture?

At this moment, the Zhaimonv felt her scalp prickling, sweat pouring down her back.

She half-expected a divine lightning bolt to strike her down for this act of sacrilege—or a finger to descend from beyond the heavens and crush her like an ant.

After all, according to unreliable rumors on the Mowang, the great Witch-King wasn't magnanimous like a monarch should be—she was fiercely vengeful, holding grudges to the last.

She didn't even wait until tomorrow—she repaid every grudge immediately.

Now, Dorothy only prayed that this night's Monvzhiye was completely isolated from the outside world—that the great Witch-King wouldn't notice such a trivial matter.

She escaped into self-delusion, for the stakes were too great.

Though she knew perfectly well that someone at the Witch-King's level must possess omniscient awareness.

Say her name anywhere in the world, and she'd sense it—let alone sign a slave indenture.

Hmm. No hope. I'm dead.

Dorothy closed her eyes, wondering if she should just calmly await death.

I thought kicking the God-King's ass last time was already unforgivable—but now I've used the Demon King as a slave? I don't even know why I'm this bold. Next step: should I just capture Long Wang and make him my mount?

The Zhaimonv 's mind spiraled into madness.

Then she suddenly remembered something, and with a snap, tore off the mask from her face.

She didn't know the Demon King well, so failing to recognize her was understandable—but Fan Ni, as a disciple of the Three Kings and future Fourth King, would've recognized her instantly. Yet Fan Ni had remained eerily silent since the beginning.

But no matter how she examined the mask, she could only find it was just an ordinary alchemical item—the aura of Fan Ni had vanished completely.

What's going on? Was she banned again?

Dorothy, who'd planned to settle accounts with this troublemaking senior, scratched her head, bewildered.

Then she looked suspiciously at her newly acquired Demon King maid—only the Three Kings could ban Fan Ni. Previously, it was Dinisha who banned her—this time...

Oh my god, is this really the Demon King herself?

The Zhaimonv suddenly felt her legs go weak.

She'd still clung to a sliver of hope—after all, the timeline didn't match.

The historical Demon King was a descendant of Coelja—she wouldn't be born for another hundred thousand years. This timeline was wrong.

But now...

Great one, please stop. I'm terrified.

Meanwhile, as Dorothy stared in fear, the evil-child girl was staring wide-eyed too.

But she wasn't afraid—she was simply enchanted. After all, the Zhaimonv had just removed her mask.

Whether or not this little girl was truly the Demon King, right now she was merely a mortal girl with some supernatural abilities—and a mortal's will confronting this divine visage...

"Big sister, you're so beautiful."

The little girl's pupils had nearly turned into hearts as she gazed dreamily.

Dorothy: "....."

The home witch felt a complex mix of emotions—could this thing really become the Demon King one day?

She readjusted her mask.

Then, that familiar sensation returned again—a vast will settled upon the plain, unremarkable mask.

"Cindy, what just happened? Why did I suddenly get disconnected again? What did you do? But hey, while I was offline, I ran into Demon Wang Laoshi—she skipped work again and sent a Deceptive Huashen to hang out at the Witch Academy. Seriously, someone her age still acts like a kid."

The joker senior appeared, first looking puzzled, then seemingly remembering something, and laughed.

"Um, senior, you say that about the Demon King—aren't you afraid she'll hear you?"

Dorothy turned around, leaning back against the opposite evil little girl, shielding the mask senior from seeing her, then asked curiously.

"Pfft, I call her Teacher only out of respect—we're both Kings. What's there to fear? I'm super brave! Besides, with my power, as long as I don't curse her to her face, blocking her perception is a breeze."

The joker mask suddenly stretched its nose like Pinocchio, grinning smugly.

The home witch silently turned back, facing only the evil little girl still lost in her daydream.

Vanie: "....."

The mask senior fell silent—and then...

"Oh my god, Demon Wang Laoshi! Teacher, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! You're my dearest, most beloved teacher—I love you the most out of all three teachers..."

The future fourth King was exceptionally practiced at backing down.

Dorothy smiled at this.

"Haha, good—now I won't be the only one Daomei."

... The home witch revelled in her schadenfreude...