Chapter 584: Left Hand, Right Hand—Both Are the Demon King

The iron hooves of the Lionheart Knights swept past like the wind, staining the sky beyond Gran Village with the color of blood as the sun set.

Carrion crows perched on the charred fence, cawing excitedly at the corpses.

It was time to eat.

Only after confirming the iron tide had vanished beyond the horizon did the old village chief of Gran Village cautiously peek out from his house.

He summoned a few bold young men, each carrying shovels and sacks, trembling as they headed toward the barracks.

The few surviving kingdom soldiers had also left with the Lionheart Knights; Hagemore needed them to testify before the Tribunal, proving the Layens had not retreated before the invasion of evil forces.

They simply lost the battle.

Now the barracks stood empty, littered with remnants left behind by the Salvation Army—including the scattered corpses.

Their cowhide boots and unburned greatcoats were treasures in the eyes of villagers, worthy of passing down through generations.

If lucky, they might even find a few silver coins.

This was not disrespect to the dead; it was simply a harsh world, and leaving them unburied risked turning them into undead.

Or worse—a plague.

The old chief silently made the sign of the cross over his chest, murmuring "dust to dust, ashes to ashes," then assigned tasks to the youths.

Gazing at the sprawled corpses, one young man hesitated, trembling as he asked:

"V-Village Chief… is this really alright?"

The chief glanced at him.

"Why so much nonsense? Do what I tell you to do."

"Y-yes, sir!"

The young man gritted his teeth, stopped hesitating, and reached for a corpse that was relatively intact.

The man had apparently been a respectable squad leader; his long leather combat boots, though caked in mud, gleamed with oily sheen.

He'd been needing a pair of boots, so he grabbed one, braced himself, and yanked hard.

But just then, the damned corpse suddenly twitched—kicking him squarely in the chest and sending him flying.

The young man rolled backward, dazed, before hearing a scream from beside him.

"Damn it!"

"Saint Ciss in heaven, it's an undead!"

"Run!!!"

Undead?!

The young man shuddered violently, as if doused with ice water from head to toe.

He stared wide-eyed at the corpse that had just kicked him—now sitting upright as if flipping off a riverbank carp, motionless one moment, then suddenly upright the next.

"Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me! Why's this NPC stealing clothes? Is he gay?"

"Gay? What's gay?" Another corpse sat up, swaying its half-dangling head as it looked around.

"... It's so cold. Did I end up in the North Pole?" The third corpse seemed calm—but its mumbling sounded to the villagers like a wizard's incantation.

An undead that could chant spells? That wasn't ordinary!

Everyone was terrified; screams rose in a chorus of horror—including the old chief who'd come to collect the bodies. The villagers fled in panic toward the village.

"Hey, don't run! Where's the newbie guide? I'm a new player—what kind of start is this?!" The first corpse to rise shouted toward the village, his hoarse voice scattering the crows waiting for their meal.

"Looks like we got lucky… spawned right into the main storyline." The seemingly calm corpse brushed dust off his pants, standing calmly at the barracks gate to analyze.

In "Disaster Online," there were two types of openings: the standard one, where you spawn directly on the Newbie Plaza of the Great Cemetery as an undead summoned by a cleric.

You could later reclass into other professions by accumulating merit; rumors said if you saved enough points, you could even become a succubus.

Many players came specifically for that.

It was strange: those with dicks wanted to experience being without one, and those without wanted to experience having one.

But succubi were among the high-tier demons—achieving that form was still difficult.

Besides the standard opening, there was another: the "irregular opening."

It sounded like nonsense—but it wasn't.

If a player checked "Accept Adjustment" during character creation, there was a slim chance they'd be reborn not as an undead, but as another monster—or even a demon—immersed directly into an ongoing storyline!

After their first death, irregular-opening players would transition to the standard opening, reborn on the Newbie Plaza of the Great Cemetery as undead, carrying their contribution points and spirit coins.

For now, they were lucky—except they'd been "adjusted" into nothing special; ghouls were only one rank above undead.

【Lonely as Blood】: "... If I understood the plot correctly, we're Saints."

【Burning Dermatitis】: "What the hell is a Saint?"

【Lonely as Blood】: "Check the official website for last spring's expansion."

【Burning Dermatitis】: "What do we do now?"

【Lonely as Blood】: "No idea. Maybe Salvation Army troops are nearby? Let's search the forest."

In an instant, over thirty "Saints" had risen from the barracks gate, all staring curiously around them.

Some punched the air, others stripped their pants on the spot, or jumped up and down.

In short, hardly any of them were normal.

As they spoke, a figure emerged from the distant forest, waving toward them.

The players' eyes lit up—the newbie guide had finally arrived—and they all scampered over.

Some didn't just run—they picked up the scattered shovels and matchlock guns.

Veterans wouldn't touch these trash items, but newbies weren't picky.

Manual pickup!

Activated!

One player grabbed a shovel, swung it twice, and was thoroughly satisfied with the weapon.

In the distant forest, a Salvation Army soldier gazed blankly at his superior.

"Captain… are these Saints really… okay?"

The Salvation Army's chaplain had said the resurrected corpses were the souls of their ancestors, called Saints.

But they looked nothing like holy beings—far more abstract than Novir's monsters.

The captain standing beneath the oak tree remained expressionless, calmly replying:

"Our ancestors just woke up—they're excited… they'll settle down soon."

Soldier: "..."

It wasn't just the Salvation Army soldier who was speechless—the old chief hiding beneath the village watchtower was too.

He'd run off too fast and dropped his pipe; he silently prayed these monsters wouldn't steal it.

Fortunately, they showed interest only in weapons, ignoring everything else.

Soon after, two figures appeared at the edge of the woods, waving at them.

And the undead followed them away.

The old chief's legs trembled, but having lived so long, he quickly sensed something unusual.

"... Something's off. These aren't ordinary undead." He muttered under his breath, his fear slowly turning to awe—as if witnessing a miracle.

The villagers exchanged glances.

They held pitchforks and matchlock guns, ready to drive the undead away—until the chief suddenly blurted this out.

The village blacksmith swallowed hard, voice trembling:

"Then… what are they?"

"Saints!"

The old chief turned, his cloudy eyes burning with fervor as he declared confidently:

"Haven't you heard of the Miracle of Wheatfield Village? The ancestors' souls, unable to bear their children's cries of hunger, begged Saint Ciss to return them to the land they once lived on… They used their hands to bring a bountiful harvest to Wheatfield Village and drove back the Chaos invaders!"

The villagers now remembered—their fear began to fade slightly.

Gran Village lay north of Huesheng City, bordering Quemu Territory—they knew this story well.

"Saint Ciss above…"

"They're our ancestors!"

Murmurs spread among them; their eyes gleamed, and even their last traces of fear turned to pride.

Though they'd never seen the Saintess, they'd all witnessed the Tribunal's persecution of her.

If you wanted to call someone a demon, those bloodthirsty killers were the real ones!

And those two theologians hanged—though those two lads from Shengcheng didn't seem evil, their arrogant, nose-in-the-air attitude certainly wasn't good!

Almost every Layen in Dusk Province held no love for the King or the Church—otherwise, the Green Army wouldn't have rebelled, and Chaos wouldn't have festered.

The Saintess, despised by both King and Church, naturally earned their innate favor.

The more the Tribunal painted her as a monstrous demon, the more they believed those hollow talkers were the true demons.

When this mindset became a tide, even undead could be interpreted as sacred.

Who knew Gran Village would be blessed by Saints? The villagers' faces glowed with joy.

Only one dim-witted giant scratched his head and bluntly asked:

"But… why did our ancestors take our shovels?"

"Of course because weapons from the Underworld can't be brought here," the chief replied swiftly, speaking with conviction, "They're furious at the Tribunal's abuses—so they've borrowed our tools to punish those who slander the Saintess!"

Too bad those two hanged theologians weren't here—if they were, their corpses would've risen in outrage.

Underworld…

These barbarians are utterly blasphemous.

Let's forget this nonsense about "spirits of the river"—elves were never humanity's enemies, yet now they're even dragging in the word "netherworld," a blasphemous term!

The Book of Sacred Words clearly states that death has been eradicated.

There is no netherworld in this world anymore!

…

The New Testament that the Holy Maiden never wrote was eventually penned by the Viceroy of the King.

Luo Yan, who received this intelligence from Sara, could only think one thing.

"... This is just too blasphemous."

At the outskirts of Dusk City, a neglected warehouse echoed with light footsteps.

The broken windows were sealed with black cloth, leaving only a single kerosene lamp on a table made of wooden crates, its flickering yellow light casting dim shadows.

Beside that light lay an unfurled map; Luo Yan stood beside it, wearing a wry smile, as if savoring an intriguing script.

The blue flags marked the garrisons of the Lionheart Knights, while the red flags denoted supply depots controlled by the Council and royal barracks directly under the Viceroy.

Clearly, the red flags surrounded the blue ones, holding absolute superiority.

Just a month ago, the Kingdom of Lein's military deployment in the Dusk Province was a complete blank to the Salvation Army.

Now, with the Council's and the Campbells' support, these devout warriors could strike swiftly and precisely wherever needed.

Luo Yan was satisfied with their actions.

He had to say one thing for Duke Edward—this money was spent brilliantly.

The Campbells didn't lift a single soldier, yet they'd avenged the "December Coup."

"... Everything is unfolding exactly as you planned."

Sara stepped behind Luo Yan, like his shadow, speaking softly.

"Viceroy Aleric convinced Judge Himenez, who had lost patience with the King, using a forged New Testament. Though Hagemore fumed at Baron Aleric, he ultimately lacked the courage to slash him down with a sword, and instead endured beneath the Judge's authority."

"Meanwhile, under the guidance of the new 'divine revelation,' the Salvation Army launched its offensive. Over the past week, they struck simultaneously at seven different locations in the province, targeting Lionheart supply convoys and villages garrisoned by royal soldiers and theologians."

"Currently, the theologians from the Holy City no longer dare rely on royal soldiers—they now only preach in villages where judges personally reside, and the Salvation Army generally avoids attacking those."

Luo Yan asked with interest.

"Has the Judge's Court suspected Aleric?"

Sara shook her head gently.

"So far, there's no sign of it. After all, the nobles' private armies have not been idle—they've won several victories under the Council's leadership and seized plenty of blasphemous evidence... No suspicion, the Judge's Court is delighted with them. The Kingdom's knights are precious of their reputation, but the Holy Light Council isn't."

As she spoke, Sara's index finger lightly tapped a marked intersection on the map, labeled with a red cross.

"Hagemore's prized heavy cavalry now resembles a lion toyed with by a swarm of bees—clad in dozens of pounds of plate armor, they scramble uselessly across muddy country roads, arriving at an attacked outpost only to see smoke rise from the exact opposite direction... And now, stationed at the province's frontier, they face severe supply shortages."

"Oh? Did Aleric cut off their rations?"

"He doesn't have the nerve," Sara smiled faintly, whispering, "but he can let the Salvation Army's guerrillas intercept the supplies meant for the knights."

Through her training in the Scholar Domain and the Dusk Province, Sara had grown considerably.

Once she only knew how to wield a dagger; now she was gradually learning to manipulate enemies with tools beyond the blade.

Conspiracy is an invisible dagger!

Luo Yan was pleased with her progress and nodded approvingly at her.

Sara, receiving his praise, wore a shy smile. Though her joy was subtle, the gentle sway of her cat ears betrayed her inner delight and pride.

"Good. It won't be long before we can close the net."

"All thanks to your guidance," Sara bowed humbly.

Luo Yan's gaze passed beyond the red crosses on the map, toward Dusk City.

"What of our Judge? What has he said about the knights the King assigned him?"

"The Judge is deeply dissatisfied—and has nearly reached his limit."

In Sara's eyes flickered a mocking gleam, like a trapped mouse being watched.

"According to Teresa's intelligence, Judge Himenez approved a special fund this morning. The money didn't go to the starving Lionheart Knights—it was directly allocated to Baron Aleric's Holy Light Council to expand his private forces."

"The Judge's Court no longer trusts the knights, and the trigger was a recent major event: Young Ed Tully, leading the Council's militia, wiped out a Salvation Army outpost in the Gray Marshes—and 'accidentally' uncovered several carts of printed New Testaments."

The Gray Marshes was the main garrison of the Lionheart Knights, right next to the Campbells' Quiet Pool Hold.

Luo Yan's face lit up with renewed interest; his eyes fell on the map, and there, on the Gray Marshes territory, stood a blue flag.

Beside it, a red flag fluttered—clearly, the Council's influence had already seeped in.

"That's quite unexpected."

"Indeed."

Sara smiled, continuing in a soft voice.

"The knights' negligence allowed heretical printed materials to pile up right under their noses. If these New Testaments reached Dusk City or elsewhere, the consequences would be unthinkable... That was Aleric's exact words—Teresa saw him in the central cathedral of Dusk City, pointing straight at Hagemore's deputy and screaming."

"Now, the Holy Light Council has been ordered to search the Gray Marshes for the printing workshops behind these blasphemous publications. Results should come soon."

Luo Yan smiled, fully believing it.

The New Testaments deemed heretical were never printed in underground workshops—they came from the southern Kingdom of Campbell, from a printing press controlled by Punk.

By the way, that same press also printed the Thunder City Daily.

Few knew that the Thunder City Daily was also Punk's creation.

The newspaper rose to fame during the Colin Group IPO incident and now dominates a significant share of Thunder City's media. During the "December Coup," it rallied reformist citizens of Thunder City as Edward's staunch supporter.

The Demon King's reach extended far beyond economics—his infiltration into information had long begun.

The Holy Light Council will soon locate the "small printing workshop" in the Gray Marshes.

Because what the Campbells shipped to the Dusk Province wasn't just printed New Testaments—they also sent printing presses from North Peak City.

One can be given to the Judge's Court later.

The Holy Light Council will use the Demon King's heretical books to accuse the King's knights of blaspheming faith, thereby pleasing the Holy Court and gaining power to counterbalance royal authority.

The only loser in this closed chain is the King of Lein.

"... The only thing we need to worry about is our King suddenly flipping the table. Though the Radiant Knights lack the power, the King of Lein still has it."

Looking at the Demon King's back, Sara spoke respectfully.

"Rest assured, my lord—we have eyes in the Viceroy's palace. We know Aleric's movements so precisely because he is under our protection."

She paused, then continued.

"Not just our people—the nobles of the Dusk Province and the Duke of Campbell have made meticulous preparations... They know the King's methods well, and have already planted their own agents in Dusk City, always ready to counter any move he makes against them."

"Good," Luo Yan smiled, speaking gently, "keep watching the Lionheart Knights' movements. Though Hagemore is politically as dull as a stone, he is still a half-god-tier powerhouse. Don't let him sense the strings behind Aleric. If anything unusual happens, report it to me immediately."

"As you command, my lord."

Sara bowed deeply, her right hand pressed to her chest.

When she lifted her head again, the room was empty—only a pale blue butterfly fluttered past, vanishing into the shadows of the old warehouse...

Nights at Colin Manor were always especially long; both Mr. Colin and Miss Colin were busy.

Unfortunately, Vivian had come up empty again.

The "accident" she had so confidently orchestrated had only startled the night-walking maids and Taff, who was snoring. It harmed no one else in the manor.

Later, the mischievous brat was scolded and made to kneel on a small stool in reflection.

But her stubborn gaze and the clenched tiger fangs between her lips signaled she'd do it again.

Vivian didn't want to be like this.

But the start of term drew nearer, and she hadn't accomplished a single item on her wish list for this trip to the human world.

How could she return home empty-handed and still boast to that cheating succubus?

As the Patrich family's interest in the Demon King grew, she was growing desperate.

What if...

She asked Grandpa?

For the first time, Vivian seriously considered it—if Prince Caesar supported her, that fool Luo Ke wouldn't dare speak.

At Colin Manor's morning breakfast: goose liver, beef intestines, oatmeal, and bread.

Plus minotaur blood.

Luo Yan had somehow obtained a bit of minotaur blood from the Adventurers' Guild.

Under the Demon King's—no, Prince Colin's—generous reward, young dreamers from Thunder City flooded the southeast coast of the Vortex Sea, venturing into the territories where orcs roamed, seeking alchemical materials for Prince Colin's magical research.

Notably, while demons are hellish beings, minotaurs are not—they are a branch of orcs.

In the distant First Era, orcs, like elves, dwarves, and goblins, were one of the dominant races of the Os Continent, even controlling the most prosperous northern shores of the Vortex Sea.

But with the rise of humans and Holy Light, and the colonization of the Vortex Sea's coasts by the dragon-god-era lizardmen, orcs have vanished from the northern shores, their range now confined to the relatively barren southern and eastern coasts.

Distinguishing orcs from demons is simple: those who look more like beasts are orcs—like the Bloodblade Demon General Glark—while those with only tails or ears different from humans are demons—like Sara.

Demons hold a status in human society akin to "untouchables." Saint Sis neither opposes nor recognizes them, leaving them to fend for themselves.

Orcs are much the same.

To distinguish them from truly evil hell demons, some call hornless demons "sub-demons," or simply ignore their subtle biological traits, refusing to mention race or faith altogether.

For instance, when Sara wears a hood or headpiece, no one notices her ears, let alone stares at her oddly—most are merely drawn to her black hair.

On the Os Continent, gold symbolizes purity, silver symbolizes age, and black symbolizes mystery and desire.

By the way, because Vivian and Nanfu refused to leave, Luo Yan dared not hire human servants—he brought over a group of demons from Hell with barely noticeable demonic traits.

The maid startled by Vivian last night wasn't human—she was a girl with fox ears.

Most of them were orphans of the Cathedral, with clean backgrounds and relatively simple minds, introduced by Father Jeffrey, Luo Yan's godfather.

These demon youths and girls were all thrilled at the prospect of working for the highly sought-after Councilor Luo Yan; upon learning of this opportunity, they happily packed their belongings and came to work.

In the year 1054 of the Aus calendar, serving as a servant to nobility was a guaranteed iron rice bowl, whether in Hell or on the surface—especially for those noble families with illustrious reputations.

After all, in this old era when humanistic thought had only just begun to sprout, the vast majority of people were either farming tools or food in a bowl.

To go from a helpless orphan to a rice bowl—wasn't that a class leap?

Moreover, this rice bowl could be passed down from generation to generation.

Thus, Lei Ming City gained another batch of "demons" walking beneath the sun.

And not just any demons—these were from the Demon Capital itself, serving within the Prince's residence.

These servants rarely interacted with the outside world; even their supplies were delivered directly by the Demon King's servants, sourced from the even "more evil" Silver Pine Town and the northern peak of the Wan Ren Mountains.

Therefore, despite a Saint Sis church standing just five hundred meters from the estate, there was never any risk of exposure.

Who would dare provoke the Prince?

If the Prince moved even a moment too slowly, the Royal Railway Corporation's tracks would already be laid right past the church's front door the next day.

A maid with drooping fox ears wheeled in a serving cart and placed the dishes upon the table covered in white linen. Another tall maid carefully arranged the cutlery; ignoring the sheep's tail beneath her hoop skirt, her appearance was nearly indistinguishable from a human's.

Even the attendant standing by the door bore scales on his ankles. The attendant measuring the spacing between utensils revealed his difference only upon close inspection—his pupils were speckled, unlike those of ordinary people.

Seeing her favorite food, Vivian's face lit up with bliss, her eyes turning into moist peach hearts from emotion.

"Brother, is this prepared especially for me? Jiji… my heart is racing! Is this… what it feels like to be a noble?"

Watching Vivian, who had begun acting up before dawn, panting heavily, Luo Yan lightly waved his wand, calming her slightly before she could pounce on the food.

"It's not prepared especially for you—Nanfu gets his share too. You needn't be so excited… and don't smear food everywhere. Remember to rinse your mouth after eating."

An invisible weight pressed upon Vivian's shoulders, sinking the small, deep-purple silk-wrapped peach deep into the velvet cushion of her dining chair.

"Guh, giji…"

Such terrifying magic!

The more Vivian wriggled, the deeper she sank.

Her crimson pupils grew even more intoxicated from the pressure on her shoulders, so much so that the caster himself involuntarily suffered backlash—his wand felt uncomfortably hot.

What kind of "magic backlash" is this?!

Fortunately, Luo Yan's shock did not last long.

When Vivian's ears caught a superfluous name, her self-indulgent gaze instantly sharpened with murderous intent.

Sensing the inexplicable hostility drifting from beside her, cautious Nanfu involuntarily shuddered, nearly dropping his soup spoon into his dish.

He turned his head, trembling.

"Brother… big brother… maybe I should give my portion to Sister? I… I actually… don't like Minotaur blood."

In this age, there are bloodline nobles who dislike blood? The demons of the Demon Capital have truly grown decadent.

Luo Yan glanced at Nanfu.

"Nanfu, have you forgotten what I taught you? Don't give everything away just because someone gives you a look."

"But… but she's Vivian."

"Who she is doesn't matter. How she looks at you—you look right back. Use your courage to tell her: this is yours. Either step over my corpse, or offer something in exchange."

Nanfu: "????"

Half of Vivian's problems were spoiled by her weak father; the other half were spoiled by cowardly Nanfu.

To make Vivian behave normally, correcting her alone isn't enough—you must correct Nanfu too.

It's also for Nanfu's own good.

He didn't want his younger brother to become a lickspittle; there was still time to change things now.

Under the gaze of the terrifying Councilor Luo Yan, Nanfu's shoulders trembled slightly, his frame shrinking further.

Me?

Stare down Vivian?

With Silver-rank bloodline power, challenge a Platinum-rank prodigy girl—the future Vampire Prince…

He figured it would be easier to just die.

Nanfu was timid, but not stupid.

Councilor Luo Yan was terrifying, but wouldn't truly harm him—and this authority had an expiration date.

Once they returned to the Demon Capital, he'd have plenty of time to see Vivian again; he couldn't afford to offend this little tyrant.

Among all the demon second-generation heirs in the Demon Capital, none dared to cross her.

A loop of fear flowed silently across the table, where only three sat.

Watching the timid Nanfu and the imposing elder brother, Vivian's cheeks flushed slightly.

Ah…

This was the taste.

The silent fear blooming amidst blood—so intoxicating!

A touch of holy light as seasoning would be perfect.

"Hahahaha…" She rolled on the floor, laughing wildly, the sound echoing loudly in the empty dining hall.

But only Luo Yan could hear it.

He sighed, deeply understanding the helplessness a deity felt when facing M.

When all punishment is interpreted as reward, even Saint Sis and the Demon God would be at a loss.

Compared to family matters, chess was clearly easier…

【M, Great Demon King, you have a plan to brighten your dining hall again—】

【Shut up, Youyou.】

【Wu… Great Demon King, at least let me finish speaking!】

Ignoring Youyou's grievance, Luo Yan calmly lifted his teacup, sipping slowly to moisten his dry throat.

At that moment, a butler in formal livery entered the dining hall and halted beside the long table.

"Your Highness, a gentleman awaits at the estate gate, claiming he came at your invitation—but he has no invitation."

Such people came daily; Luo Yan asked casually.

"Who?"

The servant replied respectfully.

"He calls himself Cairns, and claims to be a professor from the Academic Alliance."

(End of Chapter)