Chapter 91

After returning home, everything seemed to have settled down.

David and the others had already packed everything away; the house was neat and orderly, while Louis’s belongings—such as the talismans he used regularly and the human heads sealed in iron boxes—remained untouched, waiting for Louis to collect them.

Soon, night fell.

Louis and Emma sat on the sofa watching a comedy show, trying to understand the humor rooted in cultural customs utterly alien to their own.

Yulencak, wearing glasses, flipped through a book, his gaze calm, revealing an unexpected intellectual beauty.

Jenny and David were in the kitchen selecting ingredients and showcasing their culinary skills.

Dinner was soon ready, though perhaps due to the shadow cast by the estate incident, meat was conspicuously absent; the main ingredients were ham, fish, and various vegetables.

Even so, everyone ate heartily, enthusiastically recounting the amusing events of their journey.

Laughter filled the living room.

David and Jenny briefly forgot the misfortunes they’d endured on the trip.

…

Though traveling and experiencing different landscapes and customs was wonderful, most ordinary people seemed to crave stability above all.

But Louis, who was no ordinary person, did not enjoy stability for long.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

He rushed to the back mountain, his steps hurried, almost impatient.

As soon as he arrived, a blood-red shadow flickered through the trees; the towering Khorne stood before Louis, tail swaying, eyes fixed hungrily on the iron box he carried.

His fierce, monstrous appearance now seemed almost docile and eager.

Louis patted his head. “Wait until I’ve finished studying it before I give it to you.”

Khorne barked once and led the way ahead.

Through the forest, cold gazes came from all directions, but when they sensed Louis, the stares instantly softened; had it not been for the Head Dog’s orders, these dogs would have already rushed out, panting.

Eighteen fierce dogs plus Khorne had been guarding the cave during this time, preventing accidental intrusions or other mishaps.

In front of the cave, several black-clad strongmen stood guard with guns.

Louis nodded and stepped into the cave.

“Baa… baa…”

“BAA!!”

At the back of the cave, three sheep, their limbs bound and lying prone, bleated loudly as Louis entered, their horns thrashing wildly.

Their eyes brimmed with human-like emotions: rage, fury, madness…

Louis glanced at them, found them cute, then turned his gaze elsewhere.

There, six corpses still lay, well-preserved, emitting no odor of decay.

He first extracted six blood pearls, watching the corpses shrivel into dry husks as the pearls formed.

He strung the blood pearls back onto his wrist; gazing at the translucent crimson strand, he felt this thing was simply not durable.

Or rather, the ordinary blood curse pearls made from common humans were useless—against stronger monsters, multiple pearls were often needed. But this situation would soon improve.

Louis lifted the iron box.

Then his gaze settled on the three animals.

These three were the most exceptional among the deformed humans—the three brothers who had long hunted in the forest; their physical endurance, strength, and ferocity were slightly superior to those of the estate’s group.

Louis planned to use their corpses to forge corpse charms and their souls to practice the Poison Fire Art.

It was a way to make full use of them—but first, he had to successfully forge the corpse charms.

Without delay, Louis began his work.

The poisonous insects had already been purchased and stored in boxes on the other side of the cave.

Centipedes, scorpions, toads, venomous snakes, corpse beetles, brain matter… and various local poisonous insects. One had to admit, the primitive forests of America were abundant, and for the right price, these people would do anything.

Even some of these insects were protected species, yet they had still been obtained through the power of money.

Then Louis began cultivating the charms: herbs, poisonous insects, bloodletting, meat, cinnabar—all added in specific sequences.

Each jar was an experiment.

Occasionally, novel ideas surfaced, and he quickly jotted them down on paper.

He seemed to have some talent in this area, able to produce decent results, but still nowhere near the supreme talent he’d shown when crafting potions—where success came instantly, every time.

“Hss… according to the inheritance, I’m still missing something to harmonize and serve as the catalyst… Got it.”

Louis had a sudden inspiration: he dripped corpse oil into the jar, then opened the iron box containing the slumbering Heart-Eating Demon, slicing off a piece of its skin.

“I should’ve processed this Heart-Eating Demon first—then the materials would’ve been complete. I didn’t think it through. Whatever. I’ll deal with you after I finish the charms.”

Inside the jars, the poisonous insects slithered, devouring everything.

He practiced this technique continuously for three days, producing dozens, nearly a hundred jars at a time, observing every single one without pause.

Finally, on the third day, Louis’s eyes were weary but gleaming with excitement as he stared at the twelve jars before him.

All the previous dozens had failed; only these twelve remained alive. Now, they simply needed to be placed in a yin-sha location for nine days, then fed with the fresh blood of a cultivator, and they would be roughly formed—but how many would ultimately succeed, Louis didn’t know.

Even after using nearly a hundred as practice, Louis was merely at the threshold; he had little confidence. He estimated he’d be lucky to get three, at most six; anything beyond that, he dared not hope for.

“Now, take them to Eden Lake.”

Louis called in family members guarding outside and ordered them to carry the jars to Eden Lake.

He had already arranged everything there.

If that failed, he’d have to place them in graveyards or similar places.

Watching the jars carried away, Louis stretched, dragging his exhausted body toward the front house—he needed a good sleep.

Three days and nights without sleep, constant research, bloodletting, thinking—his mental exhaustion was immense.

…

While Louis was intensely practicing, in Miami, the Cano family experienced some developments.

Karl stared at his dry, yellowed palm, feeling his aging body grow weaker, his cheek twitching slightly.

The sensation of watching one’s youth vanish was excruciating.

At that moment, the family’s financial officer reported, “Lord, the purchase of all poisonous insects for Young Master has been settled. But the losses are substantial, with no return—should we continue?”

Karl waved his hand, saying nothing.

The man nodded, understanding.

He added, “Lord, should we continue acquiring that heavy weaponry? It seems some are watching us.”

“Buy it.”

“Yes.”

The financial officer sighed inwardly—Lord Karl was truly indulgent toward Young Master, willing to support such unprofitable, risky ventures.

Still, Young Master’s returns weren’t negligible: the enhanced family elites had significantly boosted the clan’s martial strength, and those fierce dogs guarding the villa…

It was hard to say who benefited more.

Shaking his head, the financial officer brought up two other matters.

(End of Chapter)