Chapter 171: Bone Broth Summoning

Isn't it? Ang ran closer in confusion, took a closer look, and realized it wasn't—though both were demons, their auras were similar, yet there were subtle differences, like how some people think all minotaurs look identical; these nuances are undetectable to those unfamiliar.

Mistook someone—what now? Go back? Ang turned and glanced behind; he saw a protective barrier—he couldn't return.

With his arrival, the insects stirred. From underground, one emerged, curious, tapping Ang's toe bone with its antennae, puzzled: This thing's hard—is it edible?

Whether it's tasty or not, try it—and the insect bit down. CRACK—it shattered its own mouthparts.

Ang tilted his head, stomped down, and crushed out insect juice: Forget it, just kill it. The insects were going to die anyway.

Ang took a step forward, scythe on shoulder, leaving a trail of footprints as he sprinted toward the demon bonfire.

As Ang leapt from the wall, the cloaked figure and the demons noticed him, laughing: "Pathetic! Scared off the wall!"

Before they finished speaking, they saw Ang land steadily and sprint away—then they changed their tune:

"Oh? Not scared off—jumped on purpose? A fearless hero? Facing a sea of insects alone, composing an epic of courage? So magnificent! Let the insects eat slowly—let him live long enough to watch himself being devoured into a skeleton. Let him have his wish. Hehehe…"

"Hmm… I feel like I've seen him before." He'd been soul-searched; his soul was shattered, memories incomplete—just a vague sense of familiarity, but he couldn't recall where.

"Two more jumped down—a little girl? One in armor—what's that curved thing in her hand? A hoe? Oh my god, it's those folks from the underground! Life acceleration!"

The cloaked figure collapsed onto the ground, overwhelmed by the terror of growing too fast and getting stuck in a rock crevice.

"Do you know these people? Are they strong? He's holding a Death Scythe—is he an undead?" The demon's face on the bonfire burned with confusion.

The demon's words seemed to give the cloaked figure strength: Right—I've already sold my soul. With demons protecting me, maybe I don't need to fear life acceleration?

He scrambled up and flattered: "Of course not as powerful as you, my lord. But their methods are too strange—they actually use life acceleration!"

The demon scoffed: "Probably some illusion. Life acceleration? Do you even know what life acceleration means? That's a divine technique. Are you telling me one of those people is a god?"

The cloaked figure shook his head: "Impossible—gods don't wander around. But they really do use life acceleration."

"Maybe some kind of divine art. Fine. I curse you: eternal life, eternal torment by time." The demon's flame glared fiercely at the cloaked figure as it uttered the curse.

The cloaked figure felt a force descend upon him, then something vanished from his body.

"Eternal life? Is that a curse? Isn't this a blessing?" He patted himself everywhere, found nothing missing, murmured: "What's gone?"

"Heh. To gain something, you must lose something. You sold your soul for one chance at rebirth. Now you want eternal life? The price may be more than you can afford." The demon smiled.

"What price?" The cloaked figure couldn't help asking. Eternal life—such an alluring word.

"Like eternal imprisonment." The demon replied indifferently.

The cloaked figure shivered. Eternal life, but forever imprisoned? Better to die quickly. No such cheap deals exist.

"Then what about me now?" He asked fearfully. Had the thing just taken from him been freedom?

"Temporary curse. For a while, you're unaffected by life's decay. You lose a portion of your vital essence—you'll just feel weak and sleepy. As for you—how's your bone broth coming along?" The demon said casually.

The cloaked figure still felt the demon's words were evasive, but couldn't pinpoint why. The mention of bone broth distracted him—he turned back to check the pot.

Behind him stood a large cauldron, simmering with bones of cattle, sheep, and horses. The insects couldn't chew through bones, leaving behind piles of white skeletons—he collected some animal bones to make broth, since he was a bit hungry himself.

Watching the broth turn milky white, he scooped a spoonful, tasted it, and exclaimed excitedly: "Delicious! Let me tell you, making bone broth takes skill. To get it creamy, non-stinky, and tasty, every step matters: roast the bones first, then add cold water, skim off the blood foam, simmer slowly…"

The cloaked figure chattered on, impatiently ladling another bowl, slurping loudly.

So delicious? The demon couldn't help licking its lips. Too bad it couldn't eat—only shouted: "Move aside!"

The bonfire surged up, doubling in height. An invisible force lifted the bone broth from the pot, suspending it in midair as a swirling mass.

Then, flames from the bonfire drifted over and coalesced into a fire array not far from the broth.

The demon's voice rang out: "￥…#*（@￥#, heed my call, appear! … Done. Now see how good your broth is—the tastier, the stronger the dog you summon."

Ang, sprinting from afar, saw this scene. Nagelis cried in his soul: "Bad! They're summoning something! Bone broth? No! They're summoning hellhounds! Quick, destroy that broth!"

At this distance, Ang's magic couldn't reach. The only thing that could was Holy Radiance.

"Aaaoh!" Ang roared without turning back.

"Aaaoh!" The little angel immediately responded, stopped, spread its wings, and pushed its hands forward… spread its wings and pushed its hands forward…

Twice it pushed—then turned back and remembered: its wings were folded.

"Aaaoh!" The little angel shouted loudly, helplessly raised its palms to shoulder height, palms open.

Too far. They could only watch helplessly as the summoning array formed. A shadow burst forth, landed, and barked in a high-pitched, puppy-like voice!

"Uh… this is a puppy? A Pekingese? Legend says hellhounds love bone broth—the tastier the broth, the stronger the hellhound summoned. This broth must be awful." Nagelis muttered.

The cloaked figure and the demon were stunned. A puppy?

"Is your broth really that good?" the demon whispered.

"Of course it is! I drank a whole bowl myself. Do you demons not like my method? Do you prefer broth floating with blood foam, foul and murky?" the cloaked figure protested.

At that moment, the puppy shook its head—its entire skull split into three heads, rapidly swelling, then lunged forward.

As if a monstrous beast had burst from the puppy's body—a three-headed giant dog, its central head bit into the broth, slurped it dry in one gulp, then all six eyes narrowed in bliss.

That expression of bliss was the ultimate praise for the broth.

"I told you it was delicious!" the cloaked figure hurried to say.

After swallowing the broth, the giant dog chewed the bones into powder and swallowed them whole. The right head of the hellhound suddenly spoke in demonic tongue: "￥%#……, @*￥……"

The demon replied: "……, #￥"

The hellhound sighed regretfully, turned, and charged toward Ang.

The cloaked figure cried out: "What did you say?"

"Oh, the dog said 'not enough,' and I said 'no, boil more later.'" The demon replied casually.

The cloaked figure felt something odd—why say 'no' if it meant 'not enough'? But demons couldn't lie—he chose to believe.

Yes, demons under contract couldn't lie—but they could omit. For example, just now, the hellhound had said: Not enough—can this one be eaten?

To get more broth soon, the hellhound acted eagerly, leaping forward, its central head opening its jaws wide to bite Ang.

"Die! Hellhounds are mighty beings guarding the Abyss! Their teeth can crush steel…" The cloaked figure muttered—before he finished, he saw the hellhound yelp and leap back.

Ang had punched the hellhound's gum, shattering one tooth capable of crushing steel.

"Ooo~ ooo~~" The hellhound clutched its mouth with both front paws, whimpering like a man with a toothache who bit something hard.

Ang sheathed the Death Scythe, raised both hands. For a creature this large, the scythe and magic were useless—better to use Rock Hand and Cross-Dimension Hand. Rock Hand was harder than steel.

The central head, too pained to open its mouth, let the left and right heads stretch out and bite.

Ang's Cross-Dimension Hand slammed into the right head's nose; Rock Hand smashed into the left head's gum—another tooth shattered.

"Oooouuu~~~" The hellhound whimpered again—this time all three heads wailed, crying in demonic tongue: "%#￥@…*@*！#"

Nagelis understood demonic tongue. He snapped back: "Did you get scammed? Do you know who you're facing? You came out for a pot of broth? And you ask who we are?"

"%%#￥@……" The hellhound sat upright, covering its left and right heads with its paws, the central head speaking.

"Fine, fine. Ang, pick up the broken teeth and snap them in front of it." Nagelis said.

Ang picked up one of the hellhound's broken teeth, gripped it with Rock Hand, and snapped it easily in two.

The hellhound shuddered, sitting straighter.

Ang snapped again—three pieces. Again—four pieces.

The hellhound stared in disbelief as its teeth—harder and sharper than steel—were broken into tiny fragments in Ang's hands.

Each snap made it tremble, shrinking a little more. Soon, it shrank back to its original Pekingese size, whimpered, and slapped its tiny paw on the ground.

A summoning array appeared. The Pekingese turned and barked: "#￥@%!" Then dove into the array and vanished.

The demon and cloaked figure watched, stunned. "Did it… run? What did it say?"

The demon, dazed, replied: "It said: 'Idiots. You've killed me.'"

Even the hellhound fled. Was this man really that strong?

"No, I don't believe it. My insect swarm is invincible! Guards! Guards! Insects, bite them to death!" The cloaked figure screamed in panic.

The ocean of insects surged like a tidal wave. The ground, covered in insects, heaved and churned, surging from all directions toward Ang like a flood.

Too many. Ang stomped hard, pulled the little angel and little zombie into his arms, and was swallowed by the insect sea.

The cloaked figure muttered anxiously: "Before absolute numbers, individual strength is useless. Even grinding can wear you down. Life acceleration helps—my children evolve faster. Last time, I just had too few insects—if I'd had more, I could've worn you down. Let's see who outlasts whom!"

Soon, a mound rose where Ang stood—formed from insect corpses.

The insects frantically devoured their own kind, burrowing inward, eating and growing simultaneously—small beetles became large beetles, then died, their corpses devoured by others, the cycle repeating endlessly.

Amid the churning insects, the cloaked figure noticed strange changes: insect types multiplied, sizes grew larger, some even sprouted massive mouthparts.

"Evolved! Evolved! Life acceleration is accelerating their evolution." The cloaked figure exclaimed excitedly. In the underground, he'd cleverly used Ang's Death Aura to breed several humanoid insects.

Now, even without deliberate cultivation, with enough numbers, the insects would inevitably devour each other to produce the strongest insect king.

Yet, as the corpse pile grew, he failed to notice some insects were growing faster—so fast they died before they could even devour their kin.

One hour passed. Two hours passed. Three hours later, the once ground-covering insect carpet had shrunk into a small mountain of corpses.

Since the cloaked figure commanded them, all insects had rushed here—leaving not a single one elsewhere.

But the scene the cloaked figure expected never came. The insects didn't devour each other to produce a king. Instead, they all twitched, then died.

The last insect convulsed, rolled up from the corpse mountain, and came to rest at the cloaked figure's feet.

The pile of insect corpses had already reached his ankles.

"How? How could this happen? Impossible? Life acceleration was active—why no evolution? Last time it worked!" The cloaked figure muttered, dazed.

Flames erupted from the corpse mountain, burning everything to ash, carving a clear path—Ang and his group emerged from within.

"What's impossible? This time it's not just life acceleration—it's insecticide too." A bronze dragon's voice rang from Ang's body.

The demon's face on the bonfire had vanished—apparently it sensed something was wrong and fled early.

The little angel clenched its tiny fist, summoning holy light. Though Ang had protected it, it had still been bitten several times. It was now a true angel—not a skeleton wrapped in flesh—it felt pain.

"Ah! Holy light? So you're from the Church of Light?" The cloaked figure snapped awake and fell to his knees: "Don't kill me! I'll buy three indulgences!"

"Huh? That line sounds familiar. You? The one from beneath Dark City? Weren't you soul-searched?" Nagelis exclaimed.

"I…" The cloaked figure started to speak—when suddenly a spectral parchment appeared before him, then burned instantly. Green light erupted from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—he screamed in agony.

"So you sold your soul and were resurrected by a demon," Nagelis realized.

Ang suddenly summoned his scythe and slashed it through the burning parchment phantom.